


Hungry Like the Wolf

by CitrusVanille



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Mating Bond, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-21
Updated: 2008-02-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wolf is hungry, and Remus knows what it wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

I don’t know when it first happened, a year ago? Two? Longer? I can’t remember. It feels like it’s always been there, this hunger. Maybe it has.

I began to notice it gradually, little things first, touches, shivers, heat. Then we left for summer break, and I almost couldn’t bear it. The full moon came, and that’s when I realized it wasn’t just me, it was the wolf. The wolf was hungry. Desperate. But the wolf didn’t know what it wanted, at least not specifically. I did. And there was nothing I could do about it.

For the wolf, it was a primal need. It’s in the wolf’s nature to mate, to find a partner. The wolf’s need is animalistic, carnal, it’s true, but that’s not all. Wolves live in packs, after all, they look out for each other. They’re family. Humans really aren’t all that different. We want family, protection, love, but we can be just as animalistic as our four-legged brethren.

And I’m human, I know I am. I just also have the wolf inside. The wolf drives me. It drives me to hunt for what I want. And I know what it is I want. Who it is I want. I can hear him, smell him, and I want him.

During the full moon now, for at least a year, the wolf howls, calling. It whines in pain. It’s lost, confused. And I am the wolf. When my pack is with me, I know what I want is near, but the wolf can’t quite locate it, isn’t sure. And I fear what the wolf might do if it knew, as my human mind and heart know.

The one I want doesn’t know. He mustn’t know. Wolves mate for life. I don’t know what that would do to him. Destroy him, perhaps. Destroy me. There can be no _us_.

But the wolf wants it, and so do I…


	2. Intro

“So, how was History of Magic, Mr. Moony?” he asks me, stretching with a large yawn.

I almost don’t hear him, transfixed as I am by the bare inch of flesh I can see as his shirt lifts with his stretch. I can’t decide if I’m happy he never buttons his robes over his uniform, or if I wish he would, so I can concentrate on something else.

“Boring,” I reply, forcing myself to look away from him.

“Boring? Dost mine ears deceive me?” a mock-shocked look is spread across his face as he fights a grin. “Mr. Moony, Perfect Prefect, Learned Learner, Notable Note-taker, thought History of Magic was _boring_?”

“Your ears are working just fine, Padfoot,” I tell him, feeling a grin creeping onto my face despite myself. I can’t help it when he’s around.

“Gasp!” he exclaims, and then loses his battle against a grin, white teeth flashing in the sunlight pouring through the windows as he beams at me. It lights up the world.

“You do have notes, though, don’t you, Moony?” James asks, turning back to us now that Lily has disappeared with her friends.

_Um... actually…_ “Afraid not, Prongs,” I admit in a cheerful tone.

A great Muggle writer once said ‘Always acknowledge a fault frankly. This will throw those in authority off guard and allow you opportunity to commit more.’

“You… what?” James raises both eyebrows, thoroughly shocked.

Next to James, _he_ looks equally surprised, while Peter looks utterly flabbergasted.

Mark Twain really was brilliant, despite the fact that he was American.

“I don’t have any notes, Mr. Prongs,” I tell my shaggy-haired friend, grinning.

“But… you always have notes!” Peter whines. He, I’d noticed, had spent the entire period napping… just like most of the class, with the usual exceptions of Lily and myself.

“Why don’t you have any notes, Moony?” he asks me.

“Because I was too busy watching you sleep, Mr. Padfoot,” I answer truthfully.

He laughs, thinking I’m joking. “Come on, Moony,” he slings a companionable arm around my shoulder, and I melt inside. “What were you really doing?”

“Remus?” it’s one of the seventh year boys.

_Safe._

“Hi, Bryan.” I grin at him, trying not to let my relief show.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Bryan Davenport glances at him and James, gaze missing Peter. “Alone?”

“Yeah, sure.” I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he tightens his arm around me, holding me in place.

“What do you want with him, Davenport?” he asks, glaring at the older boy.

Bryan scowls. “There’s something I’d like to ask him. It doesn’t concern you, Black.”

“Of course it concerns me!” he growls. “Rem’s my best mate.”

James is watching with interest. Peter looks confused.

“That doesn’t mean you own him, Black.”

_I wish._

He opens his mouth to continue arguing, but I can’t let him. I know he’s going to lose this one, and I’d rather he not be completely humiliated.

“I’m fine, Sirius,” I tell him, putting one hand against his chest. His tie is hanging undone around his neck, and the top two buttons of his shirt are open; I’m tempted to touch the smooth tan skin peeping through. Somehow, I manage not to.

He gives me a look, but releases me, and I slip away, following Bryan around the corner.

“What’s the matter?” I ask once we’re out of sight of my friends, but Bryan shakes his head, and pulls me into an empty classroom, closing the door behind us.

“I don’t want them to listen in,” he says.

“Is something wrong?” I don’t know Bryan all that well, but I can’t help but feel a bit concerned.

“No,” he says, and gives me a smile.

He’s cute when he smiles. Actually, he’s cute even when he doesn’t smile, but when he _does_ smile… well, it’s too bad I have another smile to compare it to, one that I can’t seem to get enough of, because Bryan’s smile is definitely something.

“Then…?” I prompt, curious, and trying to ignore the inappropriate voices in my head.

“I was wondering if you were doing anything this weekend,” he says, and I’m interested to note that his cheeks have a slight pink tinge. “It’s a Hogsmeade weekend.”

“I guess I’m just going with Sirius, James, and Peter,” I respond, wondering where this is going. Does he need help with something? We’ve been study partners before, even though he is a year above me.

“Oh, well…” he pauses, as though gathering himself for something. “Well,” he says again. “Would you like to go with me?”

“To Hogsmeade?” I’m confused.

“Yes.”

“You want to come with us?” I may be one of the top students in my year, but I still need more than one-syllable answers to some things.

“Er, no.” He’s definitely red now, no longer pink. “I was actually thinking just the two of us could go. Together. You know… like a, um, a date.”

“A date?” _What?_

“Yeah.” He nods.

“You’re asking me out?” I didn’t even know he was gay.

“Uh, yeah.” I can practically feel the heat coming off his face.

“Oh. Wow.” I don’t know what else to say. I’ve never been asked out before. Well, not by a guy. Before I came out, several girls had expressed interest, and a few had even since then. I’d always turned them down without too much trouble. But then, I’d never been attracted to any of them.

How does a guy turn down another guy? I don’t question that I’m going to turn him down. He’s attractive, it’s true, and I know I’m attracted _to_ him, and he’s nice, and smart, and older, which somehow adds to his appeal. But he’s still just Bryan. I don’t want Bryan. The wolf doesn’t want Bryan. Anything I have with Bryan will never amount to, well, anything. It can’t. And I can’t let him think it would. That wouldn’t be fair to him. And, so, although I know the wolf and I will never be satisfied, never sated, I cannot allow Bryan to become a casualty.

“You don’t have to answer me now,” Bryan says suddenly. “It’s only Tuesday. Just think about it, okay?”

I manage to nod, still not sure what to say.

“Let me know by Friday.” He turns to walk away, then turns back, grasps me lightly by the shoulders, and presses a soft kiss to my lips.

Bryan pulls back, and I can only stare at him. He smiles, and leaves.

My first kiss. I just had my first kiss. I’d always cherished the hope that… but no. It would never have happened anyway. And now I’d had my first kiss. And I’d liked it. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go on _one_ date with Bryan. Maybe he would kiss me again.

An image flashes in my mind, of dark hair, grey eyes, a brilliant smile… completely unlike Bryan’s copper locks and dark brown eyes. I know what it is I want, what it is I need. What the wolf wants. What the wolf needs. It’s not Bryan. It will never be Bryan. I know that. I understand it. And yet…

I stare after Bryan, though he’s long gone now, and press my fingers to my still-tingling lips.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 2

“Where’ve you been, Remus?” he asks me the moment I walk into our dorm room.

“What?” I eye him, unsure why his tone is one of controlled anger. Despite my uncertainty, I can’t help but admire the view. A picture of a dark angel. He’s stretched out full-length on my bed, open robes spread around him like wings, hair like a dark halo on my pillow. His grey eyes aren’t looking at me – they’re focused firmly on the canopy above his head. His tie is off, wound tightly around his fists. His shirt is still open at the top, revealing that tempting stretch of skin. I feel a tightening in my chest, and try to ignore the heat that begins to spread through my veins.

“Have you been with Davenport this entire time?” he wants to know. His knuckles are turning white as he savagely twists his tie, the movements of his long fingers completely at odds with his calm voice.

“No.” I am still confused.

“You didn’t come to dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Where did you go?”

“I went for a walk.”

“Where?”

“Around the lake. Not that it’s your business, Sirius.” I don’t like being interrogated by someone who won’t even meet my eyes. And why is he on my bed?

“Did you walk with Davenport?”

“No. Sirius, look at me, will you!”

His eyes drop from the canopy to my own eyes, and I feel like they’re burning into me. I crave the heat. I want more.

“Why are you on my bed?”

“Why not?”

“You have your own.”

“I like yours.”

_Don’t do this to me._ “I like it, too,” I try for a light retort, hoping to ease the tension I can feel hanging thick in the air between us. It doesn’t help.

His eyes go back up to the canopy, hands still knotting his abused tie. I try not to think about his hands, strong, masculine. They’re callused from playing Quidditch, but I know from my bouts recovering from a transformation that they’re gentle when applying salves and wrapping bandages. Those long fingers are extremely talented at drawing, and I have to force myself not to think about what else they might be skilled at.

“Where are Prongs and Wormtail?” I ask to distract myself and end the uncomfortable silence. I can’t help but feel trapped, still standing by the door, unable to move farther into the room, or leave, or even tear my eyes away from him.

“Not here.”

_Really? Allow me to express my non-surprise!_ “I can see that, Sirius.” My hands fist in my pockets, nails digging into my palms as I try to focus on my irritation instead of the images trying to crowd into my brain, all inspired by his position on my bed. “I asked you where they are, not where they aren’t.”

“I don’t know where they are. And I don’t care. What did Davenport want?”

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had to keep anything from him, with the obvious exception of my lycanthropic condition, and I don’t like the idea of lying to him. He can always tell. But something has changed between us in the space of a few hours, and even more in the course of the last few minutes, and I’m not sure what it is. I know, somehow, that it is not a good idea to tell him about Bryan’s proposition. Call in canine instinct. The question, of course, then becomes what I should tell him.

I choose to avoid both his question and mine. “I need to talk to James,” I tell him, and manage to escape from the room before he can call me on my evasion.

I hurry down the stairs to the common room, out through the portrait hole, through the castle, and back out onto the grounds, heading straight for the lake. I’d come here to think earlier, after Bryan’s kiss. I’d skipped dinner, needing the time to myself. Now it seems I have more to think about.

I begin the familiar trek around the edge of the lake.

I’m not sure what happened up in the dorm. He was angry. Very angry. And his quiet, controlled anger worried me far more than if he’d been shouting. He always shouts. Shouting I can handle. But this tense, boxed-in, tightly coiled, cold fury was something I’d rarely seen before, and, to be honest, it always frightens me when I do see it. Especially now. I don’t know what caused it. Maybe he has something against Bryan, though I can’t imagine what. He’s never said anything against Bryan before, and he usually tells me everything.

And there was something besides anger, some emotion I didn’t recognize, or couldn’t place. But what?

I toy with various ideas and discard them all as I begin a second lap of the lake’s perimeter, barely realizing how long I’ve been outside.

I know nothing about what’s going on in his head. I want to, oh, how I want to, but it is a mystery to me. A mystery I am unable to solve. If he won’t tell me, I cannot force him to.

As for myself, I know I’m getting worse. The fire in my blood is fighting, even now in the cold pre-winter wind from the lake. It wants me to go back up to the tower and…

But I can’t. Can’t. I can’t. I need to. I want to. I ache to. But I mustn’t. No. No. No. I mustn’t. I can’t. I won’t.

“Remus?”

I whip around, lose my balance, and stumble backwards, towards the rim of the lake.

Bryan catches me before I fall, wrapping strong arms around me and pulling me back to safety, holding me for a brief moment against his chest as he moves us both away from the steep bank and the icy water.

“Sorry,” he whispers in my ear, breath hot against my skin. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s all right,” I manage to mutter, and disentangle myself from his loose embrace. “It’s my own fault for standing so near to the edge.”

“I saw you race out,” he says, suddenly sounding unsure. “And then you didn’t come back. I probably shouldn’t have followed you, but…” he trails off, brown eyes pleading with me to say something.

“It’s all right,” I say again. My brain and my mouth don’t seem to be working properly at all. Visions of _him_ on my bed and the heat radiating from Bryan’s body are getting mixed up. I think I can still taste Bryan’s kiss, but it’s not his kiss that I want. It’s not Bryan I want.

“Have you… have you thought about… about what I asked you earlier?” Bryan wants to know.

“Yes,” I answer truthfully. I’ve been thinking about it since he left me… except for when I’ve been thinking of… other things. Hot grey eyes blaze in my mind’s eye.

“Oh?”

I can see he’s trying not to sound too hopeful, trying not to sound as though he’s pressuring me, trying to sound casual. He’s failing miserably, but I give him points for trying.

I still don’t know how to tell Bryan I can’t. I don’t know how to explain that I want someone else, someone who will never want me, not the way I want him. I don’t know how to describe the hammering of my heart to this copper-haired young man standing in front of me, trepidation apparent in eyes that are not grey. I am unable to articulate to this mere acquaintance that the one who yanks the breath from my lungs and makes me feel strong and faint all at once is someone I have no illusions about claiming in my waking life.

I want to let Bryan down gently, tell him that he is wonderful, but there is someone else I crave, someone else I yearn for. Because Bryan is wonderful. If he weren’t, I wouldn’t feel so terrible about having to reject him. But reject him I must. It’s for the good of all, and the only fair thing to do. Because, although his kiss was sweet, and I wouldn’t mind more kisses from him, I don’t really want them. I don’t want Bryan’s interest, his affection, whatever it is he has for me, or thinks he has for me.

Bryan bites his lower lip, dark eyes unsure but with a wish under hair that is not raven-black.

“I’ll go with you,” my mouth says.

A grin spreads across his lightly freckled, but not tan, face, and he sweeps me up in a hug, spinning me around.

Part of my brain screams to take it back, but the rest understands.

It is not Bryan I want, but, for now, he will do.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 3

“I’m not going to Hogsmeade with you tomorrow,” I tell James Friday night. I’d been arguing with myself, since I’d made the decision, as to how to go about telling my friends. I still had yet to come to a real conclusion, but I was out of time, so I’d forced myself to just spit it out when I’d found myself alone with my shaggy-haired friend. I figured it would be easier to talk to just him than wait until all three of my fellow Marauders were present.

“You can’t possibly have so much homework that you can’t go into Hogsmeade for a few measly hours, Moony. It’s the _weekend_ ,” James rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated.

Now, there’s a wonderful excuse right there. I could just say I’m staying at school to do work. It’s not like I’ve never done that before, and, while my friends might complain and tease, they’ll get over it, and it would mean I wouldn’t have to explain anything. There are only two problems with the brilliant scheme that had just fallen into my lap, courtesy of one James Potter: I don’t want to lie to my friends, and I’d be in serious trouble if they saw me in the village when I was supposed to be fussing over homework.

“I wasn’t planning on doing work, Prongs,” I admit.

“Then what do you need to stay at school for?” the hazel-eyed boy inquires.

“Did I say I was staying at school?”

James thinks for a moment. “No. So where are you going?”

“Hogsmeade,” I inform him. _Where else?_

“You’re going by yourself?”

“No.”

“You’re not going with Lily and her friends again, are you?” there is a slight note of jealousy in his voice now. He knows Lily and I are friends, and he knows I have no interest in her in any other way, for the obvious reason that she is a girl, and therefore not built to code for my tastes. He just can’t help it; he gets jealous because _he_ wants to be the one spending time with her. I understand how he feels.

“No, I’m not going with Lily or any of the girls.”

“Then who are you going with?”

I consider telling him to mind his own business, but swiftly discard the idea. He’ll only ignore it and keep guessing until he drives me to distraction and forces me to come clean just to shut him up. Best to capitulate quickly and spare myself the agony. “Bryan Davenport.”

“Why?” he asks suspiciously.

“Why not?”

James glares.

I sigh. “He asked me to.”

He regards me for a long moment. “As a friend?” he asks finally. “Or…?”

“Or,” I respond, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly. How embarrassing.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “I see.” He clears it again. “When did this happen?”

“Tuesday.”

“ _Tuesday_?” his hazel eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head. That would be unfortunate. “And you’re just telling me _now_?”

_Do I really need to answer that?_

“Please tell me that at least Peter doesn’t know yet,” he begs. “I don’t think I could bear the shame of being the last to know.”

“You’re not the last,” I assure him. “You’re the first. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“You haven’t told Sirius?” one of his eyebrows shoots up in surprise.

I shake my head.

“But you tell Sirius everything.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I let the silence stretch. James is right, of course, I do tell _him_ everything, with the glaring exception of my all-consuming infatuation. But I don’t know how to tell him this; even the thought of telling him strikes me as a very, very bad idea.

“So…” James breaks the uncomfortable quiet. “Are you and Davenport, er, going out, now?”

“No!” the half-cry leaves my lips a little too quickly, and a little too vehemently.

James’s eyebrow goes up again.

“No,” I say again, more quietly. “We’re not going out. We’re just…”

“Going out?” James offers.

“On a date. _One_ date. It’s not serious.” No, not serious. If it were _Sirius_ it would be more than one date… if it were up to me.

“What’s not me?” asks a voice from behind me.

_Speak of the Devil._ I turn, and feel my breath catch, as it always does these days. _The Devil began as the first among angels…_

“Remus’s date,” James informs the veritable Greek god standing in the doorway of our dorm room.

_Shit._

“Remus’s what?” he’s speaking to James, but his tense scowl is turned on me.

_Not good._

“Remus’s date,” James repeats. “Davenport asked him out, so they’re going into Hogsmeade together tomorrow.”

“I see,” he bites out. He’s furious, I can tell. The muscles in his jaw work as though he wants to say something, but is refusing to allow himself. His lips are tightly pressed together with effort, but I want nothing more than to cross the room and… No. There are more important things to be dealt with. Like why he’s so angry or what that other emotion in his beautiful grey eyes is… _I could drown in those eyes. I wouldn’t mind._ No.

“Something wrong, Padfoot?” James asks, eyeing the long-haired boy skeptically.

“No,” he grits. His eyes stay on me for another moment, and I feel myself falling. Abruptly, he turns on his heel and stalks back out of the room. His footsteps are louder than usual as he descends the stairs.

James looks at me. “What was _that_ about?” he demands.

I turn to him. “I was hoping you could tell me. He’s been acting strangely the past couple days.” _Since Tuesday._ “Do you think he and Bryan have, I don’t know, problems?”

“He’s never said anything to me about it if they have,” James replies.

We’re silent for a moment.

James looks thoughtful.

_I’m_ trying _not_ to think… of how amazing that incredible pair of grey eyes looks when they’re burning with anger. It works, but only because I start to wonder what those breathtaking eyes would look like if they were burning with passion…

“Remus?” James’s voice breaks into my fantasy.

“Huh?” _Oh, very intelligent._

“I’m going to go find Sirius. Try to talk to him.”

“Oh. Ok. Do you want me to come?”

“No,” he says a little too hastily. “I mean, would you mind staying here? Pete should be back soon, and he’ll probably want to go straight to bed. Could you tell him I’ll wake him up in the morning? You know he won’t go to sleep otherwise.”

I stifle a sigh of annoyance, because what he said is true, but that’s not why he said it. “I’ll tell him,” I say.

“Thanks,” James grins, and heads for the door.

“You know, you _could_ have just said you wanted to talk to Sirius on your own.” It slips out rather testily before I can stop it. Maybe it’s not a problem with Bryan after all, maybe it’s something in the water.

James turns back to me with another grin, this one fairly lopsided with guilt. “Sorry. I just – ”

“I know. I know.” I wave him on. “Go on, then. I’m going to bed anyway.”

James beams and scampers off. I can hear him leaping down the stairs before the door swings shut.

_One of these days, that boy is going to hurt himself doing that,_ I think to myself in amusement.

I gather my things for a shower, and head for the bathroom, my thoughts unerringly slipping back to visions of grey eyes, long black hair, and tan skin. I can’t help it.

With all three of my roommates gone, I turn the shower on hot for the first time in days, and slip into the steam with a sigh.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 4

“I’m really glad you agreed to come with me today,” Bryan gives me a shy smile.

“I am, too,” I reply. I’m not lying, I _am_ glad I agreed. It’s a beautiful day, especially for this late in the season: sunny and very nearly warm. And it’s nice to be with Bryan outside of school.

“Let’s go to Honeydukes,” he says, grabbing my hand and tugging me in that direction.

I can’t help but laugh as we run down the street together towards the sweet shop. His eagerness reminds me of… no. Not today. Today, I’m with Bryan. I won’t think of _him_. I _won’t_.

Inside, Honeydukes is packed with students. The crowd makes me uncomfortable, which is strange. I’ve never had a problem with crowds before. But, usually, I’m with… the other marauders.

Bryan notices my hesitation, and he frowns in concern. “Are you all right, Remmi?” he asks.

No one calls me Remmi. No one but…

“I’m fine,” I tell him. “I just don’t like crowds so much.”

“Oh…” his nose squinches up a bit as he thinks. It’s kind of cute. “Well, why don’t you stay out here, and I’ll go in and get us both some candy?”

“Ok,” I smile, and dig around in my pocket for my money. “Here…” I start to offer him a handful of coins, but he shakes his head.

“No. My treat.”

“Bryan…”

“I insist.” He grins. “I asked _you_ out, remember? That means I pay.” And he releases my hand – which I notice he’d still been holding – and vanishes into the mob.

I lean against the store while I wait for him to return. Now that he’s gone, I wonder if I made a mistake. It’s fun being with Bryan, but I know where I really want to be… and with whom. And what if Bryan gets the wrong idea? What if he thinks… What? That I like him? Do I? I suppose. As a friend, though. But there’s the rub. You’re not supposed to be attracted to your friends, and I am definitely attracted to him. But I’m _more_ attracted to… I’m not thinking about _him_. Not today. But _he_ ’s my friend, too. More of a friend than Bryan. My best friend. And I want him. The wolf wants him. The wolf _needs_ him. _I_ need him. But it won’t happen. It _can’t_ happen.

I have to stop thinking about it. I’ll worry about everything _later_. I’m going to enjoy my day with Bryan.

“Remus?”

I turn at the sound of my name, and smile at Lily Evans as she and a group of her friends force their way out of the candy store.

“Hi, Lily. Girls.”

They twitter and return the greeting. I get on well with them, but I _hate_ it when they twitter.

“Where’re Black and Potter?” Rina asks, giggling.

Alice jabs her in the ribs.

“I’m not sure,” I tell them, trying not to grit my teeth. _Giggling_.

“You’re not waiting them?” Lily asks, raising one copper eyebrow.

I shake my head. “No.”

Lily looks at me for a moment, then turns to her friends. “Why don’t you girls go ahead without me? I’ll meet up with you at the Three Broomsticks. Get me a butterbeer?” She hands her purse to Alice, who shoos the others ahead of her in the direction of the inn. I always liked Alice.

Lily inspects me like I’m some sort potion she’s working on.

I suddenly realize how interesting my shoes are. Look, the right one’s scuffed on the toe.

“Spill,” Lily commands.

“Hmm?” My left shoe has a dent in the heel. I wonder where that came from.

“Remus. Where are Black and Potter?”

“Around somewhere, I’m sure. Pete’s probably with them as well,” I tell her pointedly, finally looking up. Everyone always forgets about Pete, and I always feel badly about it. It’s not his fault he’s not as, well, interesting as our dark-haired friends. Or as popular. Or as smart. Or as… anything.

Lily, who usually at least acknowledges the omission, brushes it off. “Didn’t you come with them?”

I look back down at my shoes. Oh, how interesting, they… have laces. “No.”

“You came by yourself?”

I sense that she’s gearing up to full pry-mode now. I can tell she knows I didn’t come by myself. Better stop this before it gets started.

“Of course I didn’t come by myself, Lily,” I snap, looking up at her again. “I came with Bryan Davenport. Yes, we’re here on a date. Yes, he asked me out. No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

She scowls. “Don’t you take that tone with _me_ , Mr. Lupin.” She sniffs indignantly, then sighs. “Much as I’d like to say ‘about _time_ you went on a proper date’ I have to ask… are you all right?”

I hold her gaze for a moment, then look down once more. “I’m fine.”

“Rem…” she waits for me to look up. “What about Black?”

I swallow hard. Lily’s the only person I’ve ever talked to about _him_. Or, at least, about my inappropriate, erm, _feelings_ for _him_. But what can I tell her? She won’t believe me if I tell her I’m over it, but I’m worried she’ll think less of me if I tell her the truth. But I guess there’s nothing else to say. “Lils… you know it will never happen. Bryan’s a good guy. I like spending time with him. And I may as well have _some_ fun, right?”

“Aw, Rem,” she hugs me tightly, and I feel vastly relieved that she understands. She pulls away. “But… but you can’t… I mean…” she’s blushing. “You told me that the… um… your, er, ‘furry little problem’…”

“No,” I lower my voice, “the wolf isn’t happy. And what I told you is true. I can’t…” it’s my turn to blush. It feels awkward to be talking about sex like this. In Hogsmeade. Outside Honeydukes. “But Bryan and I are just on a date. It’s not like we’re planning on jumping into bed, even if I could. And… it can’t happen with… with Siri anyway. I told you. I can’t tie him down like that. And he doesn’t want me anyway.” It hurts to say it out loud. I’ve talked about this with Lily before, but it still hurts.

“Rem…” she pauses, and her green eyes look thoughtful. “Rem, what if I told you he might feel the same. No, don’t interrupt,” she says as I open my mouth to do just that. “What if I told you I’m _almost sure_ he _does_ feel the same? And that he wouldn’t see it as ‘being tied down’ at all?”

“Lily, don’t –” I start. I can’t handle this. Hope is a horrible thing.

“No, Rem! Really!” she’s starting to get excited now. “And I think I know a way we can get him to come out about it!”

“Lily –”

She looks at me sternly. “Rem, what you’re doing isn’t fair to Davenport. If he’s serious about you – and from what I’ve heard it sounds like he is – you can’t lead him on like this. You know it, too. That’s why you’re all worked up about this. It’s not fair to him, and it’s not fair to you. I think I have a solution. But first, you have to tell Davenport the truth.”

“Lily, I _like_ Bryan.” It feels traitorous to say, but it is true, after a fashion, and I don’t trust Lily’s schemes any more than I trust those of my fellow marauders.

She arches an eyebrow at me, opening her mouth again – most likely to berate me – but I’m saved as Bryan squeezes out of the throng in the store.

“Remmi!” Bryan grins as he reaches my side.

I ignore Lily’s shocked look.

“Evans,” Bryan smiles politely at her, and kisses my cheek. He really is very sweet.

“Davenport,” she returns his polite smile before looking pointedly at me. “I’ll see you later, _Remmi_.”

I scowl. _Girls._

“What was that about?” Bryan asks, taking my hand and leading me down the street.

He has nice hands. Not like… Anyway, Bryan has nice hands.

“Girl stuff,” I say, rolling my eyes in an exaggerated manner.

He laughs. He really does have a nice laugh. But I can’t help but miss…

“So did you have to fight off half the school to get to the counter?” I ask, mentally fighting off the annoying voice in my head that’s wondering what a certain grey-eyed marauder is currently doing.

“More like the whole school,” he replies with a grin. “But it was worth it. Look!” he waves a Honeydukes bag in the air in front of me. “I forgot to ask you what you like, but I got Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, and sugar quills, and licorice wands.” He beams.

No chocolate.

I feel a pang in my chest as I realize _he_ wouldn’t have _needed_ to ask me what I like. _He_ knows how much I love chocolate. _He_ ’d surprise me with all sorts of flavors, and they’d all be wonderful. Just like he is.

I blink rapidly.

“Remmi, are you ok?” Bryan looks worried.

“Just the sun in my eyes,” I say hurriedly, smiling at him. Maybe I should listen to Lily. Maybe… no. I know better.

“Remmi…” Bryan pulls me around a corner into a side street.

“Bryan?” I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what’s going on.

I hear familiar voices laughing from the main road. They’re getting closer, and I want to listen to what they’re saying, but Bryan looks very serious, and all of a sudden he releases my hand and puts his arm around my waist, drawing me closer.

Then he’s kissing me again, and it’s as soft and sweet as last time. My arms wrap around his neck, and his tongue traces across my lower lip, begging for entrance. I’m about to part my lips, when, somewhere deep inside me, the wolf growls, angry with the situation.

I push away, and, at the same moment, realize the laughter from the street beyond has stopped.

“Remus?”

That squeaky voice can only belong to Peter.

I turn.

Pete’s standing at the corner, staring. James is trying to push _him_ away. He’s having a hard time of it. _He_ doesn’t look too happy.

“Hey, Rem!” James’s voice is cheerful, but forced, and slightly breathless from the effort it must be taking to keep _him_ from breaking loose. “We’re just going. You go back to what you were doing! Peter! Help me!” Together, Pete and James manage to pull _him_ away, and they vanish around the corner.

I turn back to Bryan. “Sorry,” I tell him.

“It’s ok, they’re your friends…” he trails off, and reaches for me again, smiling in a ‘let’s forget about them for now’ kind of way.

I stop him. Lily was right. I can’t do this. I can’t help but hate her at the moment.

“Bryan… I’m really sorry.” I bite my lip. “This…” I gesture between us, “This isn’t going to work.”

“Remmi –”

“It’s not you, Bryan. Please believe me. It’s me. I shouldn’t have come here with you. It wasn’t fair to you. I…” _Can I say it?_ I think I have to. I owe Bryan that much. “I’m in love with someone else.” My shoes really aren’t all that interesting. “I thought I could forget him, but I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

There’s silence for a moment, then, “It’s Black, isn’t it?”

My head snaps up. “What?”

“You’re in love with Sirius Black, aren’t you?”

I bite my lip again, then force myself to nod.

Bryan nods in return. “I thought you might be, but… I hoped…”

“I’m really sorry, Bryan.”

“I understand. I… no,” he shakes his head. “I won’t keep you. But if you ever change your mind…?”

“You’ll be the first person I look for,” I promise, amazed he’s taking this so well. He’s really a great guy.

“Thanks.” He turns to go, then turns back. “Remus?”

“Yeah?”

He gives me a sad sort of half smile. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

He walks away, and I’m left staring after him as he disappears down the street.

Then I turn and head for the Three Broomsticks.

Lily’s plan had better work.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 5

“Lily, will you _please_ tell me what it is you’re planning?” I’ve very nearly lost my patience with the girl, and most people consider me a very patient person.

“Not yet,” she replies blithely, and flops down on one of the big couches in the common room.

I glare down at her, momentarily rejoicing at my sudden height advantage – she’s nearly as tall as I am when she’s standing, though that’s not really saying much. “Lily, you ditched your friends and dragged me all the way back here, and now you say ‘not yet’?”

“We’re waiting.”

“For what?”

“For whom,” she corrects.

“For whom?”

“For someone.”

“Lily.”

“I’m not telling just yet, so you may as well sit down, make yourself comfortable, and tell me all about your date.”

“The date you _ruined_ , you mean?”

She scowls up at me. “I did not _ruin_ your date. You know perfectly well it never would have worked out. And in any case, I wasn’t even there when it ended. So stop being such a boy and sit down so we can talk properly. I’m not used to having to break my neck trying to speak to you.”

I sit, but make it a point to grumble as I make myself comfortable next to her on the couch.

“All right,” she beams, ignoring my grumbling, and shifts to sit cross-legged, facing me. “Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”

I shake my head at her, amused, and forgetting my irritation. Her enthusiasm is contagious. “Well,” I begin. “We met in here this morning at ten. He was already waiting for me.”

“I always appreciate punctuality in a date,” she grins. “Did the others wonder where you were going?”

“They were still asleep,” I explain, “and I didn’t want to wake them up. You know how they like to sleep in. And Siri didn’t get in until really late last night, er, this morning, so he must have been really tired. But I told James yesterday, and Siri found out, too. I, uh, forgot to tell Pete last night, though. I was, um, distracted.”

“How did Black and Potter take it?”

“Well, James was ok with it, once he got over the fact that I hadn’t told him right away. I think he was fussed because it was my first date, and I waited until the last minute to tell him.”

“And Black?”

“Siri didn’t take it so well,” I admit.

“Maybe he was jealous.”

“I don’t think so. I think he has something against Bryan. He was pretty upset earlier in the week, too, when I’d been talking to Bryan, and it had nothing to do with the date.”

“Maybe he was jealous,” Lily says again.

“I doubt it.” I suddenly feel very glum.

“We’ll see.” Lily is looking suspiciously pleased with herself, but she’s obviously not going to share, so I go on.

“Anyway, I left the others to sleep, and met Bryan here, and we went and got breakfast downstairs. Then we walked to Hogsmeade, and mostly just wandered around. It was so nice, today. He needed to get a new quill, and then he wanted to go up to see the Shrieking Shack, which was, obviously, silent.”

“Obviously,” she agrees. “He hasn’t bought into all that ‘haunted’ nonsense, has he?”

“I’m not sure,” I reply. “But, you know, _we_ know it’s nonsense, but most people believe it. Dumbledore encourages the rumors, after all.”

“I suppose,” she says, and falls silent, waiting for me to continue.

“Well, then we wandered back into the village, and he wanted to go to Honeydukes, but it was so _crowded_ , and I just couldn’t handle it, so I waited outside, and he went in.”

“I never knew crowds bothered you.”

“They never have, before. But, usually, I’m with…” I trail off.

“Black,” she finishes for me. “And he distracts you?”

I nod, feeling miserable.

“We’ll figure it all out,” she gives me a bolstering look. “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” I say without much conviction, but keep going. “So then you came out, and we talked, and then Bryan came out, and you left, and Bryan had bought candy for me, too. He’d said that, since he’d asked me out, he was supposed to treat.”

“Aw!” Lily coos. “A proper gentlemen! So rare,” she sighs wistfully. “You know, my mother always told me that it’s not a proper date ‘til the guy spends money.”

“I’m a guy, too!” I protest.

“Yes, but _he_ asked _you_ out,” Lily says in the same way Bryan had, as though that clarified everything.

“Yes, well…” I’m not really sure what to say to that, so I plough on. “Anyway, he’d bought a bunch of things, but no chocolate.”

“No chocolate?” Lily is stunned. “But… you love chocolate.”

“He forgot to ask.”

“Ouch.” She winces. “And of course, Black…”

“Wouldn’t have had to ask,” I finish.

“So that threw you off.”

I nod. “A bit. Anyway, we walked, and then he pulled me around a corner, and kissed me –”

“He kissed you!”

“Yes.”

“Oh my gosh! That was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”

“Well, no. He kissed me when he first asked me out.”

“And you didn’t _tell_ me?” she whacks my arm. “So did little Remmikins finally get to first base?” she teases.

“Er… Which one is that?”

“Remus!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Tongue, Rem,” she says in exasperation.

“Oh.” I blink. “No.”

“No?”

“Well, almost, but then the –” I look around, and lower my voice a bit. “Then the wolf got, er… mad, and I pushed him away, and Siri, James, and Pete had showed up and were all watching us. Peter just looked shocked, but Siri seemed pretty upset. James was trying to pull him away. Then he did, and Bryan tried to kiss me again, but I stopped him, and told him that it wasn’t going to work, and I couldn’t see him again. Then I went and found you. And that was it. Do you think Siri thought Bryan was trying to hurt me?”

“Maybe,” Lily doesn’t look like she thinks that at all, but she doesn’t share what she is thinking. “So, before the wolf made a fuss and you pushed him away… was he a good kisser?”

_Where did_ that _come from?_ “I don’t know. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I don’t have anyone to compare him to, Lily. I’ve never kissed anyone else before.”

“Oh. Right. Well… what was it like?”

“Nice. Soft. Sweet.”

“Show me?”

“Show you?” I’m lost.

“You know,” she looks at me like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Kiss me like he kissed you.”

“ _Lily_!”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? That’s just…”

“It’s not like it means anything. It’s no different than two girls practicing on each other, or something.”

“Yes it is!”

“How? You don’t like girls, remember? You like guys.”

“So do you!”

“Yes, but you hardly count as a guy.” She winces as soon as she says it. “I don’t mean that –”

“Don’t bother trying to fix it,” I mutter. “You’ll only make it worse. I know what you meant.”

“Well then,” she looks vastly relieved. “Don’t be so squeamish. We’re practically just a couple of girlfriends anyway. You’ll have to get used to kissing people when it doesn’t mean anything, and I doubt the wolf will mind if it _knows_ it doesn’t mean anything. Besides, it’s just kissing. It’s not like I’m asking you to bang me into the couch.”

“Lily, that’s unbearably crude. I expect that sort of thing from the guys. Not from you.”

“I’m not allowed to be crude once in a while?” she raises an eyebrow at me.

“No. I need some sophistication in my life, and I’m not going to get it from my roommates. I depend on you for it.”

She laughs.

I wish I could laugh like that. Then maybe _he_ ’d notice me. Though maybe not. It’s beautiful, but definitely a girl’s laugh, and, though he definitely _likes_ girls, he’s always liked guys better. Too bad I ‘hardly count as a guy.’

“So,” I decide to try again, “Why do I need to get used to kissing people when it doesn’t mean anything?”

She looks at me, and I can see she’s calculating. “That’s part of the plan,” she finally relents and explains.

“I have to kiss people?” _This can’t be good._

“Just one person.” Her smile is so innocent I almost want to believe it.

“ _Who_?”

“Potter.”

“ _James_?”

“Yes. _James_ Potter.”

“ _What_?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll explain everything to him.” She pauses, tapping her mouth in thought. “We’ll explain everything to Davenport, too, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. We wouldn’t want him to get hurt after he was so nice.”

“No, _we_ wouldn’t.” I can’t believe her.

“Oh, calm down. _I_ ’ll explain everything to Davenport.”

“Why don’t you explain everything to _me_ first.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “It’s like this. You and _James_ pretend to be going out. Thus the kissing that doesn’t really mean anything. You can’t be convincing if you won’t even kiss.”

“And _why_ do we need to be convincing?” This whole thing is rather hard to swallow, and I’m still not sure where she’s going with this. I want very much to just be angry with her for the whole idea, but, much as I hate to trust her schemes, they often work… just like the marauders’.

“Because if Black thinks you and Potter… all right, _James_ are going out, he’s going to be jealous, which will prove to you that he was jealous before, and he didn’t just have a problem with Davenport. And if everything works as it should… Black will confront Pot – James, and tell him he’s so upset because _he_ wants to be the one going out with you, because _he_ is in love with you, which is _so_ obvious if you look at him. And then James, being the wonderful friend that he is, will tell Black of _course_ he’ll step aside, and he and Black will arrange some fancy face off scene to play out in front of you, so Black can play the hero, and you’ll fall into his arms, and he can whisk you off back to your room and the two of you can live happily ever after until the end of your days.”

All I can do is stare at her. _That can’t possibly work._ It won’t. It _can’t_ … Can it?

_It’s so crazy, it might._ I can feel hope building, and I _know_ it doesn’t have a permit to build here. _But, maybe…_

_Oh, but…_ Hope crashes. “James will never agree to it.”

“Oh?” that damned copper eyebrow goes up again. “Won’t he?”

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 6

“Let me see if I’ve got all this straight,” James says, ruffling up his hair out of habit.

I somehow refrain from pointing out that perhaps ‘straight’ is not the best term to be using under the circumstances. _He_ wouldn’t have refrained. But then again, we’ve only explained half the story to James, and I feel it best not to sidetrack so early on. Best to leave _that_ ‘til we need to divert him so he doesn’t blow something up… like one of us.

Unaware of my inner musings, my hazel-eyed friend keeps talking.

“ _You_ ,” he looks at Lily, “know about Remus’s furry little problem.”

“Yes,” Lily nods.

“You’ve known for years.”

Lily nods again.

James gives me a reproachful glance.

I try to look repentant. _Maybe I should have told him and the others before now that Lily figured it out ages ago._

James runs an unconscious hand through his hair again.

Lily scowls.

James doesn’t notice.

“Werewolves, like Remus here –” James gestures helpfully at me in case it is unclear to either Lily or myself who ‘Remus here’ is. “– mate for life.” He looks at me. “So _you_ can’t have sex because the first time you do the nasty your partner becomes your mate, and, due to said furry problem, it’s a binding contract.”

Now _this_ isn’t an awkward conversation.  
  
“That’s what I just told you,” Lily is nodding again.

_How can she be so_ calm _?_

For once in his life, James ignores the redhead. “And you’ve known about this for _how_ long?” he demands of me.

_Shit._ “A few years,” I mumble.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s not like I was hiding it,” I mutter.

“Like hell!” James shouts.

_Double shit._

“You’ve known for ages and you couldn’t find a moment, in all the time the four of us spend together, to tell us you –”

“It’s not like I’m going to just bring it up in a random conversation, James!” I snap. Somehow, this is all just hitting a nerve. “Imagine, if you will, the four of us sitting around, complaining about teachers and homework as usual, and all of a sudden, out of the blue, I just come out with it. ‘Yeah, I can’t believe this essay McGonagall’s making us write. Oh, and by the way, I can’t wind the clock, ‘cuz it’s a lot more permanent than marriage!’”

Lily coughs.

James is gaping at me.

I bite my lip. I shouldn’t have said that. I thought I was better than this at controlling my temper.

James suddenly looks resentful. “ _She_ knew,” he jerks his head at Lily. “You managed to find an appropriate time to tell a _girl_ , but you can’t find the time to tell your best friends?”

Startled by this new attack – I never in a million years thought James would turn on _Lily_ – I can’t form a response.

“Girls talk,” Lily, coming to my defense, informs the hazel-eyed boy sharply.

“About –”

“About everything,” she cuts him off before he can get out the question.

“Rem’s not a girl,” James reminds her.

“Well spotted,” I mutter acidly, my irritation fighting my defenses once more.

“He’s as good as,” Lily snaps at the same time.

“Not helping, Lily,” I manage to bite out before James can say anything else.

“Sorry.” She turns pink and looks away.

“Remus –” James starts.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, James.” I sigh, trying to push my annoyance down. “But now you know, so can we just drop it?”

“Do Sirius and Peter know?” he asks.

“Er,” I chew on my lower lip for a moment. “No. They don’t.”

“Even Sirius?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“Erm, yes.” And I thought I was uncomfortable before. At least he’s calmed down a bit.

“This is the second time in as many days I know something about you before he does,” James remarks. “I thought you told him everything.”

“Yes, well…” I trail off. If I thought explaining the sexual habits of werewolves was hard, this should be fun.

“There’s a reason we’re talking to you about this, Potter.” Lily seems to have regained her fire.

“Oh?” James raises an eyebrow.

Lily frowns at him, then looks pointedly at me.

_Guess_ I _have to do the talking,_ I grumble to myself. _And here I thought she might explain, since it is_ her _plan._

“Well?” James presses.

_Just say it._ “There’s something else I haven’t told Sirius,” I confess.

“Something _else_?”

“Erm.” I resist the urge to squirm. “Yes.”

James looks at me expectantly, waiting.

I’m not really sure how to start. “It’s sort of tied in with…” I try. _No._ “You see, it’s kind of…” _Not really._ “Well, what I mean is…”

“Just spit it out, already!” James exclaims.

“What I’m trying to say is…” _Shit._ “The thing is…”

“He’s in love with Black,” Lily mutters, clearly exasperated.

“What?” James whirls to face her fully. “What did you say?”

Lily gives me a look, which I return helplessly. She rolls her eyes, and looks back at James. “I _said_ , he’s in love with Black.”

“Black? As in… as in _Sirius_ Black?”

“Yes, _Sirius_ Black.” Lily rolls her eyes again.

“As in our _friend_ Sirius Black?”

“How many Sirius Blacks do you know, Potter?” Lily demands.

“But I –” James stares at me for a long moment.

I fidget under his gaze. “What?”

Finally, he nods. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so _what_?” I want to know.

“Just that I should have known,” he replies.

“You should have _known_?” _I thought I’d done a good job hiding it! I thought Lily was the only one who knew! But Bryan knew, too. That’s what he said. He said he thought…_

“Just certain things,” James explains. “You know, like…”

“Things?” I say sarcastically.

He has the decency to look embarrassed. “Yeah, things.”

“Great.” I slump back into the couch. “So does _everyone_ know?”

Lily and James each raise an eyebrow at me. If I didn’t feel quite so miserable I’d find it amusing. I know _he_ would find it amusing. Would probably spout some nonsense about ‘His’ and ‘Hers’ matching expressions.

“ _You_ figured it out ages ago,” I remind Lily. “And _you_ seem to think it’s obvious, now,” I point out to James. “And _Bryan_ said he knew, though he’d hoped otherwise, and he doesn’t even know me well enough to know I like chocolate.”

James claps a hand to his forehead. “Davenport!” he exclaims. “Aren’t you going out with him? Why would you do that if – what?”

Lily is making frantic ‘cut it out’ signs at James, who only looks confused.

“It’s fine, Lily.” I grab the girl’s wrist to make her stop miming cutting her own throat. I turn back to James. “I told Bryan I’d go to Hogsmeade with him because I was hoping that I might be able to forget about Siri for a while,” I explain. It’s easier to talk about if I pretend it’s someone else’s life instead of mine. “Only I realized I can’t. I was attracted to Bryan, it’s true, but it wasn’t anything more than that, and –” I lower my voice, “– the wolf wasn’t happy about it.”

James quickly glances around the common room, which is still almost empty, and he, too, lowers his voice. “The wolf wasn’t happy? You can tell?”

“Of course I can tell.” I bite my lip. How would James know that? It’s not something I ever talk about much. “It’s always here, James,” I tell him, tapping my chest. “I can control it, most of the time, but it’s always here.”

“Oh.”

I glance at Lily, who nods encouragingly. “Anyway,” I go on, trying to convince myself that it’s okay to be talking about this, “the wolf can be pretty forceful when it’s not happy.” _And Lily can be pretty forceful when she’s sure she’s right,_ I add silently. “I told Bryan I couldn’t see him again. And Lily and I came back here, and I assume she sent that fourth year she talked to on our way back to tell you to come back as well.”

Both James and Lily nod. I wonder briefly what she told the younger student, but the common room is starting to fill up again, and we still haven’t told James Lily’s plan. Maybe I ought to propose a change in location, somewhere more private. I’m not so sure about how well Lily’s plan is going to go over with my messy-haired friend, and if he starts screaming, it’s bound to attract attention. Then again, James shouts an awful lot, so maybe no one will pay any mind… Of course, that depends on what it is he starts yelling about.

Definitely a good idea to move.

“Look, can we go somewhere else to talk?” I suggest. “People are starting to come back, and I’d rather not talk about this with an audience.”

Neither of my friends says anything, they just nod, and rise. We head up to our dorm, since James can’t go up the girls’ staircase. I’ve never had any trouble, but, as Lily keeps pointing out, I’m practically one of the girls anyway. I really hate that sometimes, but it’s made my friendship with Lily a lot easier.

We settle on my bed.

“So is there anything else I need to know?” James sounds partly curious, partly resigned. “I get the feeling you didn’t want to get away from everyone else to ask about my Charms essay.”

“Er,” Lily and I exchange a glance.

“Yes?”

“The… the mate thing,” I stumble a bit over my words. “It’s… well…”

“Sirius?” James asks.

“How –”

“I’m not completely stupid, you know,” James sounds a little hurt.

“I know,” I hasten to reassure him.

“Guilty until proven innocent,” Lily mutters at the same time.

I glare at her. Alienating James will not help. Not that I think Lily could really alienate James; after all, she’s been trying for years and it hasn’t worked.

“So, how does the mate thing… work?” James asks.

It slips out before I can stop it. “Hopefully, just like anyone else’s.” I clap my hand over my mouth, feeling my cheeks burn.

James’s eyes go wide, and Lily bursts into giggles. A moment later, James is laughing as well, and I can’t help but join in. It was just something _he_ would say, and I realize as well as they do how bizarre it sounded coming out of my mouth.

After a few minutes, we settle down again.

“So…” James prompts.

“What is it you’re asking?” _Do I really want to know?_

“Does it, er, matter who the mate is? Is it some sort of, I don’t know, pre-destined thing?”

“I thought you dropped Divinations because you thought it was a load of shit, James,” I say, a little more tartly than I’d intended.

James flushes. “I was just wondering.”

I sigh. I’m supposed to be the nice, quiet one. “It’s not pre-destined,” I tell him, forcing myself to breathe evenly. “It can be anyone, whoever my first is, so Sirius isn’t my mate. I just want him to be.” I almost whisper the last. A fist clenches in my chest and I fight the sudden sting in my eyes. This is _not_ what I need right now.

James nods, looking thoughtful

The room is quiet for a few moments, and I attempt to gain control of myself again.

“So, um, how do I fit into all this?” James asks, breaking the silence. “Not that I don’t appreciate you telling me this, but if I had to venture a guess, I’d say you’re not telling me now just because you thought it was time we had a heart-to-heart.”

“Remus is convinced Black doesn’t share his feelings,” Lily says bluntly. “I think otherwise.”

“And you think I might hold the secret?” James guesses. His mouth twists a bit. “He’s never said anything about it.” He looks at me for a moment, then adds quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say hurriedly, trying to ignore the tightening fist in my chest and the feeling that I’ve just fallen into a bottomless pit. “I didn’t think he did. Lily just –”

James holds up a hand to cut me off. “I didn’t say he _doesn’t_ feel the same way. I just said he’s never _said_ one way or the other.”

I stare at him.

“Then…” Lily’s brow is creased in confusion.

“I agree with you,” James tells her, then shrugs. “I can’t prove anything, of course, but there are a lot of little things that would make more sense if you’re right. I didn’t know about Rem, but I’ve had suspicions about Sirius for a while. Especially this past week.” He gives me a significant look. “I think he knew right off that Davenport fancied you. I think that’s why he’s been behaving so oddly. I, er,” James flushes, looking embarrassed, and combs his fingers through his hair. “I sort of confronted him about it last night, after he stormed off.”

“You _what_?” _Kill me now._

“I asked him why he was so jealous,” James confesses. “He said he wasn’t and I told him that if he wasn’t jealous, he should stop acting like he was. I told him he was behaving like a jilted lover. He, er, got a bit shirty with me. Told me he would behave however he pleased, and it was none of my business. I, uh, told him it _was_ my business, since you wouldn’t stand up for yourself.”

Lily gasps. “What did he do?”

I’m wondering the same thing. I can’t decide whether to be touched or angry that James was standing up for me, but I do know that _he_ must have been less than thrilled at being stood up _to_ – even if it was James.

“He pulled his wand on me and told me to piss off. I decided it wasn’t worth a fight, so I left. He was better this morning. A little on edge, but better. Until we ran into you and Davenport playing tonsil hockey.”

I feel my face heat up. The detached part of me notes with amusement his use of such a Muggle expression. The rest of me wants the earth to open up and swallow me as Lily starts to giggle. I _hate_ when girls giggle.

“It took both me and Peter to drag Sirius off,” James tells Lily once she’s calmed down. “Then he left. Probably went up to the Shack to sulk.”

“See!” Lily whacks my arm, looking triumphant. “I _told_ you he was jealous!”

“But…” I stop, not really sure what to say. Most of me is still convinced that she’s got it all wrong, there’s another explanation for everything, and if I go along with this plan of hers, I’m going to lose _him_ as even a friend, and quite possibly James, too. But that little part of me that agreed to her cockamamie scheme – the part of me that has always tried to hope – wonders if perhaps she’s been right all along.

Lily, ignoring me, turns to James. “Look, Potter,” she says excitedly, “I’ve got the perfect plan to make Black confess that he’s in love with Remus.”

“You’ve got a what?” James stares at her.

“A plan, Potter. I would have thought that you, of all people, would know what that is. You know, it starts with an idea, and then, in order to figure out how to make it work, you think about – but I suppose _that_ would be where _you_ run into difficulty.” She smirks. “Thinking.”

James reddens. “I know what a plan is, Evans. I just didn’t really see you as the planning type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Potter,” Lily informs him.

I wonder if he understands what she means. I somehow doubt it.

James looks between the two of us, then says, “So, Remus is, er, in love with Sirius, but so far none of us has a definite answer as to whether or not Sirius returns these feelings, so you came up with a _plan_ to prove that he _does_ return them.” He pauses for a moment, then goes on. “That’s great, and all, but I’m still not sure _why_ you’re telling _me_ all this. I’ve told you I don’t have the proof you want.” He frowns suddenly. “But you already had this plan before you started talking to me, and it seems as though whether or not I could tell you what’s going on in his mind wasn’t a factor to begin with. Now, I keep trying to add two and two together, but, somehow, I keep ending up with three. What am I missing?”

Lily glances askance at me, then focuses on James. “You saw how upset he got over Davenport,” she begins.

James nods, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, we figured if there were a similar situation, we might be able to provoke a similar response, and, perhaps, get Black to admit _why_ he’s so upset.”

“I see.” James nods. “But why a similar situation?” he glances at me. “Why don’t you just keep going out with Davenport?”

“It wouldn’t have been fair to Davenport,” Lily answers for me. “He genuinely seems to like Remus, so it would have been cruel to ask him to pretend to go out with Remus just so Remus could find out if someone else likes him. And it would have been horrible to keep it a secret and just use him like that.”

“So what did you have in mind?” James is looking suspicious.

Can’t say I blame him.

Lily takes a deep breath, glances quickly at me again, then says, “We want you to pretend to go out with Remus.”

James is silent for a long time. “You want me to go out with Remus?” he finally asks.

“Pretend,” Lily says hastily. “Pretend to go out.”

“Why me?”

“It won’t be particularly convincing if _I_ do it,” Lily points out.

James colors. “Yes, but…”

“You’re Black’s best friend,” Lily reminds him. “It’s perfect. He ought to be comfortable enough with you to tell you he’s not happy you’re dating Rem. And even if he’s not at the beginning, if I’m right, it will bother him so much that he’ll eventually crack. Especially since you’re all good friends _and_ dorm-mates, so he’ll _always_ be around the two of you. It will drive him mad. And you’ll be able to tell it’s bothering him. So when he finally comes out with it – which he _will_ – you can tell him that, while you care about Remus, you know Black does as well, and more, and you can tell him you think Remus likes him as well, and then _you_ can help Black win Remus through some _plan_ of your own.” Lily is positively beaming.

I’m practically holding my breath. Knowing James, he’ll either laugh hysterically and agree, thinking it’s a marvelous joke, or he’ll take off downstairs, shrieking so loudly he’ll attract more attention than that time last year when Peter dared our two black-haired friends to go streaking during the Sorting to honor my being made a prefect. Needless to say, they took the dare, and gave the new students a preview of what happens when you cross Professor McGonagall. _He_ always insists that McGonagall should thank them: she’s never had a day of trouble from any of the students Sorted last year.

But James, completely at odds with everything I know about him, says nothing for quite some time. I’ve nearly run out of breath by the time he finally speaks, and his behavior continues to defy the image of him that I’ve built up over the past five and a half years. “I can’t do it,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Lily looks incredibly startled. “Why not?”

“Because I –” he stops for a moment before going on, face red. “I just can’t, all right?”

“Come on, Potter,” Lily insists. “Please?”

He hesitates, and I can see what it must be costing him to say ‘no’ to Lily, but then he shakes his head. He doesn’t look at me, and seems to be trying to avoid her gaze as well. “You said it yourself, Evans,” he tells her. “Sirius is my best friend. You can’t expect me to do something like that to him. Whatever my feelings are.”

“Potter –”

“I can’t! So just drop it!” James jumps up off the bed and runs out of the room.

Lily and I look at each other.

I’m confused. He was definitely hiding something, though I’m not sure what.

“There’s something up with Potter,” Lily says, as though she can read my mind.

I nod. _There’s definitely something up. The question is, what is it?_

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 7

“I’m sure he’s not refusing to help because he’s friends with Black,” Lily insists, staring at the open door as though she can see down the spiral staircase and into James’s head.

“Maybe he thinks you’ll be upset with him?” I suggest. “It doesn’t particularly make sense to me, since you’re the one who came up with all this, but maybe he’s worried that if he agrees, you’ll think he doesn’t like _you_ anymore.”

Lily laughs. “It’s not like _that_ ’s going to happen. I know he’s mad for me. He makes such a fool of himself whenever he’s around me that it’s not easy to miss. Especially with him climbing buildings to shout it from the rooftops.” She laughs again. “Someone really ought to tell him that he’s not supposed to take that saying literally.”

I can’t help but laugh as well. James really is a fool for love, and I do mean _fool_.

“Well, maybe it’s something else. Maybe he’s worried you’ll think he actually fancies me? I know it sounds stupid, but maybe…”

“Maybe…” she trails off, staring out the door again. “Or maybe…” she turns back to me, looking like the proverbial light-bulb has just gone off in her head. “Maybe he really _does_ fancy you!”

“What?” I give her an incredulous look. “Lily, I think you’ve finally lost all your marbles. Are you _that_ determined to find _someone_ who fancies me?”

“No! No! Listen! He was behaving like he was hiding something, yes?”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean –”

“And he wouldn’t look at you, right?”

“Right, but –”

“And he blushed and made up an excuse we _obviously_ weren’t going to buy into and _fled_ , correct?”

“Yes, but, Lily –”

“It all makes sense now!”

“Lily!” I grab her by the shoulders and somehow keep from shaking her until she rattles. “It’s completely ludicrous that James would have a crush on me!”

“Why?”

“Because, well, because it is!” _Do I really have to explain this to her?_

“No, it’s not,” she insists. “Oh, don’t look so exasperated. I’m not saying he’s in love with you.” She looks suddenly thoughtful. “I think it’s probably the same as you felt for Davenport. Attracted to one person, but in love,” she rolls her eyes, “with someone else.”

“Oh.” That actually made more sense than it didn’t, but I’m not quite sure why. I’m not quite sure I _want_ to know why, either.

She smiles. “I’m sure that’s it.” Suddenly, her smile seems more smirk than smile.

I narrow my eyes at her. “What?”

“I think I know how to convince him to help.” Definitely more smirk than smile.

Why do I feel like this isn’t going to be good for me?

“What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Lily’s smile is gone, now. It’s _all_ smirk. “Perhaps I could remind him that if he’s pretending to go out with you, you two will be doing a fair bit of snogging.” She winks at me. “And I can vouch for your _talents_ in that area.”

Definitely not good for me.

“You wouldn’t dare. He’ll kill me!”

I wish _I_ could smirk that wickedly and still manage to look angelic. Life is so unfair.

“Poor Rem,” she sighs, and her smirk dissolves into giggles. I think I prefer the smirk. “Life’s so difficult. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you kissed me.”

“I was just showing you how Bryan kissed me,” I remind her defensively. “And we found out that the wolf doesn’t care whom I kiss, so long as it knows there’s no threat whatsoever to… its mate.”

I fall silent for a moment, thinking. We know now that Lily was right about kissing without meaning, so if we can somehow convince James to help, that won’t be a problem, since I don’t feel anything more than friendship for him, whatever he may feel for me, but… But with everything that’s been going on lately, with the kissing and my attraction to Bryan, I’ve realized I can feel the wolf’s presence more than I usually can when the moon isn’t full. The wolf didn’t particularly care when I kissed Lily, but I didn’t either. It hadn’t really bothered me to do it, but it wasn’t Lily I wanted to be kissing, it was _him_. It _is_ him. I bet the wolf would care if I kissed him. And I bet it wouldn’t be angry. I bet it would be… I wonder if I’d be able to control it, if, once we were kissing, the wolf decided it didn’t want to wait for…

I shake my head, frantically trying to rid myself of these thoughts. Lily is giving me a strange look, frowning in concern.

“Rem, are you all right?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” I tell her.

She looks suspicious, but doesn’t press. I silently thank her for that.

“I’ll go find Potter and find out if we’re right, or wrong. If we’re wrong, I’ll find out what’s really going on.” She stands up and heads for the door. “You stay here,” she instructs. “It’s probably best if I talk to him one-on-one.” A trace of her smirk has returned. As she pulls the door closed behind herself, she calls back, “This shouldn’t take long.”

I laugh, and tip myself over backwards on my bed, so I am staring up at the canopy.

I should really tell James that if he would just settle down, Lily would be more than happy to go out with him. Of course, I’d have to find some way of telling him without actually telling him. Lily swore me to secrecy years ago, back when she first told me she liked James – and I first told her I liked _him_. I’d really rather not find out what she’d do to me if I broke my promise to her.

If Lily does convince James to play along, we’ll have to set some sort of time limit on it, we can’t keep it up forever. It wouldn’t be fair to James and it wouldn’t be fair to Lily. I realize it was her idea, and I know she’s thrilled with it, but I can’t imagine she’s going to enjoy watching me and James fool around, even if she knows it doesn’t mean anything. Though from some of the comments she and the other girls have made, I have to wonder…

No, no wondering. Wondering is bad. I’ll just hope it’ll make her a bit jealous, too, and maybe knock some sense into her. Perhaps if James and I pretend to go out, it will shake Lily out of her determination to wait until James learns to grow up before she’ll go out with him. Maybe then we can all be with the one we truly want.

I sigh, and suddenly realize that I can smell _him_. His bed is next to mine, but that’s not it. The scent is faintly coming from my own pillows and coverlet. I wonder if he’s been lying on my bed again.

Unbidden, the image of him as he was last Tuesday after I’d first spoken to Bryan invades my mind. He really did look like an angel. Lucifer. Angel of Sin.

I turn and bury my nose in my pillow, trying to absorb his scent. I want him, maybe even more than the wolf does, and I fight to maintain the control I’m not even sure I want. I can feel the drive. I can feel the hunger for something that isn’t food. It’s getting stronger, in both the wolf and in _me_. It’s getting harder to control and my interest in controlling it has been waning. The part of me that doesn’t want to trap him continues to battle for command, fearful that what the rest of me wants can only bring destruction. It’s a losing battle. The wolf still doesn’t know what I know, but it knows it’s close. And I know just how close it is.

I breathe in deeply, relishing the slightly spicy fragrance, and I wish I didn’t have to have my face pressed against a pillow to savor it.

“Remus?”

I flip over so quickly I nearly catapult myself off the bed, only managing to save myself thanks to the lightening reflexes of the wolf.

James is standing alone in the doorway of our room, face bright red, and looking supremely uncomfortable.

_Wow, Lils. That was fast._

“I talked to Lily,” he mutters, not looking at me.

“Indeed?”

He shuffles into the room, goes to look out the window, then comes back towards me.

I turn, watching him poke around the room, wondering if he’s ever going to say anything, or if I’m going to have to wait for Lily to return to find out what’s going on. “Well?” I prompt.

“Ahgrkushoo,” James finally mumbles to his feet.

I wonder if his shoes are as interesting as mine. They must be, if they understood what he just said: it didn’t even sound intelligible, much less English.

“Huh?” Great. Now I’m about as intelligent as a pair of shoes. Or worse… James himself.

He clears his throat and tries again. “I’ve got a crush on you,” he says, much more clearly.

“That’s what Lily said,” I tell him.

He looks up, startled. “She did?”

I’m puzzled. “Didn’t she talk to you about that?”

“Didn’t say she told you,” he grumbles.

“I thought she told you girls talk about everything,” I remind him caustically.

“Oh,” he looks slightly abashed. “Right.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” I assure him. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

“Yes, well,” he avoids my eyes for a moment, looking past me, then, as though coming to a decision, his hazel eyes meet mine and he closes the distance between us.

“James?” I have to tilt my head a little to hold the slightly taller boy’s eyes. “What are you –”

My words are cut off as he pulls me against him and kisses me on the mouth.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 8

“What the hell is going on?” a familiar voice demands from behind me.

I yank away from James, spinning towards the open doorway.

_He_ ’s standing there, framed by dark wood, arms stiff at his sides, black robes shivering slightly, as though he’s shaking.

“Sirius,” I breathe, unable to tear my eyes away from his, even though they’re burning fiercely into my own. _Sweet chocolate I want him._

“Didn’t mean for you to walk in like that, mate,” James says from behind me, voice casual. “I guess we forgot to shut the door.” He chuckles and I can hear him grinning at _him_ , man-to-man. “Rem and I were a bit distracted.” One of his arms snakes around my waist and pulls me back against him.

Startled and confused, I don’t resist. My eyes are still riveted on blazing silver and I can’t think of anything else.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate us?” James is asking.

I’m surprised his furious grey eyes aren’t giving off sparks. “Why the hell should I congratulate you?” his voice is chilling, but the very sound of it sends heat through my veins.

I shiver against James, and feel his arm tighten around me, as though he knows that if he doesn’t hold me, I’ll fling myself across the room towards the long-haired boy looming in the doorway.

“Rem told me he decided not to go out with Davenport after all,” James explains calmly. “So I asked him out, and he agreed.”

“I see.” His eyes leave me, and I mourn their loss. They flick to James, and I feel the boy at my back flinch almost imperceptibly. “Lily?” The name is a question in itself.

“She’ll never go out with me, you know that,” James replies. I am unable to fathom how he can sound so… un-agitated. “I finally realized she’s just not interested. I told you back in fourth year I had a bit of a crush on Rem, here.” He places a light kiss on my neck; I barely notice it, riveted by the icy grey eyes boring once more into mine. “Well, I never really got over it, so I thought, if he was up for it, we might give it a shot.”

“I see,” he says again.

“Did you want to go for dinner?” James asks, still perfectly composed.

“Sure,” he’s clearly making an effort to restrain himself.

“Would you mind letting Peter know and going on ahead with him?” James still sounds utterly unruffled, though I can feel the tension in his body.

_Has he realized that_ he _seems ready to kill someone?_

_He_ says nothing, just nods once, sharply, and stalks out. He doesn’t close the door behind him.

James releases me at once, and goes to close the door with a bang.

I stand where he left me, unable to move.

James turns to me. “Sorry about that,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “He showed up downstairs right as I left Lily to come up here. She said she’d try to stall him, but then I heard him coming up the stairs, and I kind of panicked.”

“Oh,” my voice emerges as a sort of undignified squeak. I clear my throat and try again. “Oh.” Much better. _Wait, did he say –_ “You’ve had a crush on me since fourth year?”

James flushes slightly. “Third, actually, but I didn’t tell Sirius until fourth year, I was worried he’d be weird about it.” James frowns slightly. “Come to think of it,” he says softly, “he _was_ a bit strange about it. Not because we were both guys – I mean, why would _that_ bother _him_? – or even because we’re friends. It was, well, _strange_. I can’t explain it. It was almost as if he were defensive, but I never really thought about it like that, and that doesn’t strike me as exactly right, though closer than any other way I could describe it. That would make sense, though, if Lily’s right. It would also be a reason for him not to have ever told me if he _does_ return your, er, feelings. Because I’d told him that _I_ liked you.” He falls silent for a moment, obviously lost in thought.

“Er…” I feel suddenly awkward, and slightly trapped. “Dinner?”

“Oh, right.” James nods. “Come on, then. Lily said she was going to wait downstairs.”

I follow him down to the common room, and Lily rises from one of the couches as we approach.

“Whatever you did, it worked,” she says without preamble. “He stormed through here looking furious. Keep this up, and everything will be settled before Christmas.”

James’s mouth quirks in a bit of a grin, and he glances sideways at me.

Lily notices, and raises an eyebrow. “What _did_ you do?” she inquires.

“Er…” _Why do I always feel so awkward talking about things like this?_

“I kissed him right before Sirius walked in,” James says. He’s watching Lily carefully. “He saw us.”

If he’s hoping for a jealous reaction from her, which wouldn’t surprise me, he must be disappointed, because she only grins. “Wonderful! And you sent him ahead to dinner?”

James and I both nod.

“Rem, come here,” she beckons me closer.

Not quite sure what she wants, I take a hesitant step nearer.

Lily rolls her eyes and closes the distance between us before reaching up and ruffling my hair.

“What the – Lily!” I bat her hands away in irritation and try to fix the damage, praying it’s not hopeless without the use of a mirror. “What’d you do that for?”

She smirks. “So it looks like you and Wonder-Boy here were fooling around,” she explains.

I gape at her for a moment, then carefully close my mouth. _Right._

“So stop fixing it until you get down to dinner,” Lily instructs, yanking my hands away from my head, where they’ve automatically been smoothing the mussed strands. She messes up my hair again. “Now, you and James go down to dinner. Take your time, but make sure when you go into the Hall you look like you’ve rushed down there. _Then_ you can fix your hair, Rem. _After_ Black has seen you.”

I don’t move.

“You, uh, might try playing along, as well,” James mutters.

I look at him, and see that he’s blushing slightly. “What?”

“Well,” his blush deepens. “I don’t think he’ll really buy that you and I are together if you keep trying to jump _him_. I mean,” he corrects himself hastily, “if you _want_ to jump him, you’re perfectly within your rights to do so, and I wouldn’t _dream_ of standing in your way, but, uh, if we’re going to pretend to be together, you have to pretend, too. It doesn’t work if I’m the only one acting like we’re a couple.”

“So don’t botch this,” Lily orders, fixing me with a stern glare. “ _Couple_ means _two_.”

“Right.” I nod, but wonder if I’ll be able to obey. I’m fast losing control, and part of me can’t help but wonder what would happen if I _did_ just jump _him_.

“Play footsie, or something,” Lily suggests, pushing us towards the portrait hole. “Hold hands under the table, but not _really_ under the table. Just, you know, be _couple-y_.” She pushes on the back of the Fat Lady’s portrait, and waves at us as we head down the hall. “Be cute!” she calls after us before vanishing back inside.

“Be _cute_?” James asks, leading the way towards dinner.

I don’t reply. My head is whirling with everything that’s happened.

I’d never kissed anyone before this week, and now, today, I’ve kissed three different people, not one of whom is the person I really _want_ to be kissing. Does that make me a slut? _Can_ guys be sluts? Aren’t I supposed to be the prude? My world is completely askew. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.

“Do you think Lily was right?” James suddenly breaks into my thoughts.

“What?” I glance askance at him.

“About everything being settled by Christmas,” James clarifies.

“Oh. Er…”

“It’s just that, well, term’s almost over, just another two weeks.”

“You’re going home, aren’t you?”

“You know they make me every year.”

“Peter and Lily, too.”

“So it will just be you and Padfoot,” James says.

“Just like every year.” The muscles in my stomach clench. I’ll be alone with _him_ for the whole vacation, just the two of us in the dorm room. I can’t decide if I’m ecstatic or terrified.

We’ve reached the top of the stairs in the entrance hall.

James stops. He appears to be thinking. “Hold hands and run?” he says finally.

I nod. “How do I look?” I ask. _Why do I feel nervous?_

He reaches out and copies Lily’s actions of earlier. “Bite your lips,” he suggests, doing the same.

I obey. “Well?” I demand after a moment of chewing on my lips. “How do I look?”

He laughs. “Debauched. Me?”

“Wicked as always,” I reply.

He laughs again, and, suddenly, I feel a bit better about doing this with James. He’s obviously comfortable with it, and it hasn’t yet made things awkward between us if we can joke about it.

_We’ll see if I still feel the same when I see_ him _. I hope I can control this…_

James grabs my hand, and squeezes, giving me a look that tells me he knows what I’m thinking. “I’ll hang on to you,” he promises. “I won’t let you do anything rash.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, and mean it. “On go?”

He nods. “Ready.”

“Set.”

“Go!” we both cry together, and take off down the stairs, hands tightly clasped.

We skid to a halt just inside the Great Hall and head for our usual seats at a more sedate pace. I’m certain he’s no more winded by the quick gallop down the steps and across the hall than I am, but both of us breathe more heavily as we approach our dorm-mates, who are already seated at the Gryffindor table. It’s easy enough to pretend we’ve run all the way here, we’ve both done it enough to know what it feels like.

“You’re late –” Peter begins as we slide into the seats across from our two friends, but he stops when he gets a proper look at us. His pale eyes widen. “What happened to _you_?” he asks.

Forcing myself to ignore _him_ , I exchange what I hope is a guilty glance with James and try to fix my hair.

“We meant to come right after you left,” I say, and break off as James _giggles_. _Since when does James_ giggle _? What did I say that was so – oh._ I suppress a sigh of irritation at my friend’s immaturity. _I really have to be careful of how I word things. I should know that by now._

“We did mean to follow you,” James insists, having gotten himself under control. “But we got a little –”

“– distracted,” _he_ says at the same time, voice sour.

I refuse to let myself look at _him_. Simply hearing his voice is driving my control ragged. I don’t think I would have the willpower to keep myself seated if I actually _saw him_.

“Exactly,” James says, beaming. He leans closer to me briefly – “Just breathe,” he whispers so low I can barely hear him – straightening my horribly mussed locks as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do, then pulls back and serves himself from the choices on the table.

I follow suit, and begin to eat, trying to focus on my food.

After several minutes of silence, James subtly captures my hand.

“Ow!” Peter exclaims at the same moment. “Who kicked me?”

“Sorry,” James says at once, the picture of embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to.” He slides me a (very obvious) sidelong glance.

“Are you playing _footsie_?” _he_ demands, sounding angry.

I make the mistake of looking up at him, and suddenly I have no interest in my dinner. His silver eyes are blazing, and I can feel them burning my skin.

James’s hand tightens on mine, pressing down into the bench as though to hold me in place.

“All in good fun,” James insists, grinning innocently. “Care to join in?”

_His_ jaw tightens for a moment, then he stands abruptly. “I have to go,” he says, and strides determinedly out of the Hall.

My eyes fix on his back until he’s gone from sight.

“Why’s Sirius so upset?” Peter asks, confusion written plainly on his face. “Does he not like playing footsie?”

“I don’t think that’s the problem, Pete,” James tells our bewildered friend. He smirks at me in a maybe-this- _will_ ¬-be-resolved-by-Christmas fashion.

“Oh.” Peter’s face clears a bit. “Well, can I play?”

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius’s POV. It’s a week after the end of the last chapter (so there’s still a week left to go before winter break), and it’s the night of the full moon.

I stand under the tree by the lake, staring in the direction of the Whomping Willow. It’s nearly sunset, but I still haven’t decided if I’m going to join the others tonight.

I shiver in the cold and shift from foot to foot. The packed snow crunches beneath my boots.

Part of me can’t believe I’m even _considering_ missing tonight. I haven’t missed a full moon since I mastered the animagus spell. I’ve never wanted to before.

The rest of me is hurt and confused – and desperate not to be present when the uninhibited werewolf takes over the body and mind of the person I once considered my closest friend. I don’t think I could handle watching the wolf curl up to sleep with the stag-that-is-usually-the-boy-who-used-to-be-my-friend. It would be the final blow.

I’ve spent the last week trying to avoid my dorm-mates. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been failing spectacularly. I can’t seem to go anywhere without running into the boys I used to try to spend all of my time with. It seems like every time I turn around, there they are, the two of them holding hands, cuddling together, exchanging quick kisses that they seem to think are innocent, but I _know_ what those so-called innocent kisses _really_ mean, and it’s not at all wholesome and family-friendly. It’s almost as if they’re following me around, which is just stupid. They’re probably trying to sneak off to be by themselves, but since _I’m_ doing the same, we keep ending up in the same out-of-the-way places. I should probably stop trying to avoid them and just let them avoid me, it would probably work better for all of us.

Of course, I realize this whole situation is my own fault. I never told the-boy-who-used-to-be-my-friend how I felt – even when he tried to confront me about it – because he’d confessed his own feelings to me all those ages ago, and I know how awful it is to like someone only to find out your friend likes the same person. No. I’m lying to myself. It _is_ awful to find out you and your friend like the same person, but that’s not why I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell him because I couldn’t admit it to myself, much less to someone else. I was too scared to admit that I might have feelings for one of my best friends.

When I’m not with him, I want to know where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s with. And every time I see him I _want_ him. I want to grab him and kiss him and hold him and never let go. Yes, I want to do more than kiss and hold him, but as long as I could be _with_ him, I’d be happy. Well, I could learn to be happy.

It wasn’t so bad until Davenport started hanging around. I knew instantly what he wanted, and I knew just as surely that I did _not_ want him to have it. I know I was jealous, but I couldn’t help it. And now this thing with the-boy-who-used-to-be-my-friend. I should have _known_ the reason he was asking me if I was jealous was because he suspected, and wanted to make sure he was in the clear to go for it himself. Bastard.

No. I can’t blame him. I should have known he wouldn’t wait for Evans forever, especially since she obviously refuses to admit she likes him. It’s good for him to move on. But did he have to move on to _him_? It’s not fair. I know I sound like a five-year-old, but it’s simply _not fair_.

I stare up at the darkening sky. Not long to go now. I have to make a decision.

“I should go,” I whisper to the chilly air, knowing it’s the right thing to do, and hoping that if I say it aloud, I can convince myself. “Just because _I’m_ too much of a coward to tell him how I really feel is no reason to punish _him_.”

“Problems in paradise?” sneers the last voice in the world I want to hear.

I whip around. “Snivellus.”

Snape’s jaw clenches, then eases into a twisted smirk. “Upset you lost your boyfriend to your best friend?” he mocks. “And so soon after his fling with Davenport. Never figured shy little bookworm Lupin for a slut.”

I’m aiming my wand at him, but don’t even remember reaching for it. “Watch your mouth, _Snivellus_ ,” I growl at him.

The tip of his wand is instantly hovering inches from my nose. Stalemate.

“He can’t stand up for himself?” the prick taunts. “Or do you think defending his honor will convince him you’re worth keeping around?”

“I’m warning you,” I hiss, wand-hand steady despite the fact that the rest of me is starting to shake with anger. _How dare he?_

“Don’t have the balls to tell him you like him. Not that he’d ever go for an arrogant wanker like you. I’m surprised enough that he’d stoop so low as to be seen in public with Potter, but at least Potter wasn’t disowned by his family.”

I grit my teeth.

“Then again…” he pauses to consider. “You’d think a miserable half-blood like Lupin would be willing to bend over for anything pureblooded, even a disinherited disgrace like you.”

A flicker of movement catches my eye, and I glance towards the castle doors.

Two figures move swiftly in the gathering darkness from the castle towards the Willow.

Snape turns and follows my gaze. I turn back to him just as recognition lights twin malicious sparks in his hollow eyes. A wicked gleam crosses his face as he sees the Willow freeze, and the two figures disappear.

“What’s your boyfriend doing with the nurse?” the slimy git taunts, turning back to me. “Is _that_ why you’re so upset, then? The slut’s with her, too? Is that what he sneaks off to do every month? Or should I say _whom_ he sneaks off to do? Potter must be more understanding than I gave him credit for.”

Something in me that has been gradually fraying over the past week finally snaps. “Why don’t you follow them and find out? If you go in after moonrise, you’ll see _exactly_ what Remus _sneaks off_ to do.”

He hesitates, and I know he wants to distrust anything I tell him, but in the scant light of the dying sun I can see the greed and curiosity glistening in his dark eyes.

_He wants to know._

“Just hit the knot in the trunk like they did?” he asks at last.

I nod, a fierce and bitter fire burning somewhere in my chest. “Just follow the tunnel inside.”

He smirks nastily, then glides off, obviously having gotten what he wanted. It hadn’t occurred to me that he had been here for any reason other than to be nasty.

“You know, Black,” he throws over his shoulder, by now far enough away that he has to shout, “if you’d just associate with the proper people, you might not be such a disgrace to your name.” Then he’s gone, and I’m left alone once more with my thoughts.

I return my stare to the Willow, watching until the branches freeze once more, and the figure of the nurse appears and retreats towards the castle.

I look up at the sky. The sun has set. _It won’t be long now._

I watch the sky get darker. Maybe I should talk to James. Maybe if he knows how I feel, he’ll… what? Give up his own happiness for mine? I can’t ask that of him. Of either of them.

_I can’t abandon them tonight, either._

Feeling vaguely detached, I start back for the castle as well, thinking to tell the others, if they’re still inside, so they can come watch the sport of Snivellus running screaming from the passage after seeing a werewolf. It will be entertainment for us before we transform and a warning for the slimy git. _Maybe then he’ll watch what he says,_ I think contemptuously. _He’ll never bother us again if he knows what we can do to him if we should choose to. Once he knows, he’ll never even_ think _of insulting…_

I stop dead, foot poised above the step in front of me as the reality of what I’ve just done hits me.

_Once he knows._

No one’s supposed to know! Ever!

_Oh, by all that is mischief, what have I done? What have I_ done _?_

All at once I’m in motion again, running headlong up the stairs and down corridors, hoping against all reason that I’ll make it back to the dorm before James and Peter leave.

_Must tell James,_ I think as I run. _He’ll know what to do. What have I done? What have I done?_ It becomes a mantra, turning over and over in my head in time with the echo of my footfalls in the empty stone passages.

I don’t know why I assume James will have the solution; I’m running on pure, terrified instinct.

I burst into the common room, panting, scanning frantically for my friends. They’re not here.

Fighting the panic that’s threatening to swamp me completely, I race up the spiral staircase and throw the door wide.

Inside, to my intense relief, James and Peter look up, startled at my abrupt appearance. James is holding his invisibility cloak and Peter is holding a ratty old bit of parchment and his wand, poised to utter the words that will turn the blank page into the map we’ve been working on for nearly a year.

James raises an eyebrow at me. “Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you, Padfoot?” he asks. “Where’ve you been?”

I shake my head, lungs screaming for oxygen. “No time,” I gasp.

Both eyebrows go up this time. “We have plenty of time,” he says. “The moon’s not up yet, and we can’t join Rem until after he’s transformed, anyway. I was just pulling your tail.”

“ _No_!” _How can he be making jokes? There’s no time for that! I have to make him see._ “ _No time_! Snape’s going into the tunnel!”

James’s face goes completely blank. “What?”

“Outside!” I say frantically, waving my arms. “Was upset. Didn’t want to go tonight. You and Rem killing me, because _I_ want _me_ and Rem, but _Snape_ showed up and almost fought but saw Rem go into the tunnel with the nurse and was saying _awful_ stuff and I _told him to go in after moonrise_!”

Horror is slowly dawning on James’s face. Peter looks lost. I can’t deal with him now.

“You did _what_?” James finally roars.

I take a step back at the ferocity in his tone. I’ve never seen James this angry. It’s frightening.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” I tell him, voice much lower now. The urgency of the whole situation is thrumming in my veins, but he has to understand. “I wasn’t going to go tonight. I can’t handle being around you and Remus. I want you to be happy, but I _can’t_ handle seeing you together. It’s killing me.” It doesn’t matter who knows. Not now. “I’m in love with him, James. And then Snape showed up, and he saw Rem go into the tunnel with the nurse, saw them hit the knot, and then I _told_ him. And I think that’s what he was after the whole time, but I didn’t realize until it was too late. And now he’s going to find out about Remus!”

“Find out?” James whispers. “You think that’s the worst of it?” his tone is low, deadly. “He could _die_. Remus could _kill_ him. What do you think that would do to Remus, hm? Do you think he could live with himself if he killed another student?”

_Oh, no. I hadn’t thought – What have I done?_

“And why?” it’s a growl. “Because you were _jealous_ and couldn’t admit that _you_ were in _love_ with _Remus_!”

My voice won’t work. _What have I done?_

“And the whole thing was a lie!” James is screaming now. “Lily and Remus and I were trying to get you to admit that you loved him, so _we made it up_! Remus and I were _pretending_ to be a couple so _you_ would realize that _you_ wanted to be with him!”

_I don’t understand…_

“Remus is in love with _you_ , you arrogant prick! He would never have been with me except Lily convinced him it was his only chance to be with _you_. He doesn’t care about me like that. He cares about _you_. And even if he _did_ like me as more than a friend, it never would have worked. The wolf wants _you_. And werewolves mate for life.”

_Mate for life… he wants me?_

“Now I have to go and _fix_ what you’ve done before someone gets hurt.” The rage is rolling off my furious friend in almost visible waves. “May anything that goes wrong be on your head.”

And he’s gone.

I’m left standing dumbstruck in the middle of the dormitory, staring blankly at nothing.

I dimly hear Peter making confused sorts of noises, but I’m past actually registering them as words.

_I don’t understand. What have I done? What will he do if he hurts someone? What if James gets hurt? What if_ he _gets hurt? Was it really all a lie? I never knew werewolves mated for life. How does that… work? Does he get a choice? Is it forced on him? Could he really be in love with… me? Will he still want me after what I’ve just… Oh, what have I done?_

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus's POV.

When I wake up I’m assaulted by the silence and ultra clean scent of the hospital wing. I open my eyes and wince at the bright white light. I wonder what time it is. From the blinding sunlight coming through the curtains I’d guess late morning, but I can’t be sure.

I shift a little, trying to get comfortable, and wince at the pain in my still-healing body. It’s worse than it has been in a while. I try to recall what we got up to last night, and, with a start, realize I don’t really remember much at all. This hasn’t happened since my friends started joining me in their animagi forms…

_But they weren’t there last night._

I frown, trying to think. They weren’t there? I can remember bits and pieces of the previous night. I never left the Shrieking Shack: that much I’m sure of. And no, they weren’t there.

_Why weren’t they there?_

From beyond my curtain comes the noise of a door opening and footsteps, then low whispering that I can’t quite make out. More footsteps – they’re familiar, light, purposeful… Lily?

A moment later, a head with dark red hair and bright green almond-shaped eyes peers around the curtain at me.

“You’re awake!” Lily says, smiling, and comes around the curtain properly. “How are you feeling?” she sits on the edge of my bed and touches my forehead with the back of her hand out of habit.

“I’m a little sore,” I tell her casually, “but other than that I’m fine.”

Her lips purse and I know there’s no fooling her.

“All right, so I’m a little worse off than usual.” I pause, not sure I should really tell her, but then decide I’ve told her everything else. “The others didn’t come last night.”

Instead of the surprise I’m expecting – or perhaps some supportive outrage – she nods, an expression I can’t read on her face. “I know,” she says.

“You… know?”

She nods again. “James told me.”

_What?_ “James told you they weren’t coming?” _Did he tell you why? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t_ someone _tell me?_

“No. He told me afterwards, just a little while ago, actually. He asked me to come see you and tell you what happened.”

“What… happened?” I repeat. I know I sound like a parrot, but I don’t care. I can feel a little bubble of panic start to expand in my chest. “Did someone get hurt? Is James okay? Is _Sirius_ okay?” I don’t know why, but it feels like a fist is closing around my heart. Something is wrong. Very wrong. I don’t want to ask, but I have to know. “Did something happen to Sirius?”

“Not exactly.” Lily looks down and picks at the white coverlet.

I want to shake her. “ _Not exactly_?” I demand. “What does _not exactly_ mean?”

“Well…”

“Don’t beat around the bush, Lily, just say it!”

She sighs and looks up. “The good news is Sirius _is_ in love with you. He confessed to James and Peter last night. The bad news is he told Severus Snape how to find you after moonrise, and the only reason he admitted to being in love with you is because he realized what he had done and panicked… and ran to James.”

My mouth is hanging open. I can’t quite process what she’s just said. _He’s in love with me? He told Snape? Snape_ knows _? How… What… How…?_

“James went after Snape and pulled him out, but he knows you’re a werewolf. No one got hurt. Dumbledore knows. James told me, then went to find Sirius. The two of them and Snape are in Dumbledore’s office now.”

I try to speak, but something doesn’t seem to be working. I can’t make a sound.

Things are warring inside me, confusion still dominant. I’m not entirely sure what’s happening around me.

Somewhere there’s an unexpected ecstasy, and I think it’s being encouraged by the wolf.

There’s definitely fear, for myself and my friends – what if it’s discovered that they’re Animagi? Will they be sent to Azkaban? What’s going to happen to me? What if Snape _tells_ someone?

There’s quite a bit of shock, weaving in and out of the confusion. Everything seems very sudden. I’m not sure what to do with all this information.

Sorrow, hurt, pain. The physical aches permeating my body have nothing on the mental anguish that’s trying to take over.

And steadily gaining strength is an emotion almost as rare for me as real happiness: anger. Fury. Pure rage. It’s bubbling up inside me, making my blood boil. Betrayal. _How could he do this?_

Lily is watching me, face sad, eyes understanding. She gently strokes my arm and takes my hand. She says nothing.

There is nothing to say.

“Remus?” the hesitant voice belongs to James.

I look up at my messy-haired friend and wonder if he expects an answer of some sort. I hope not. He’ll only be disappointed if he does.

The hazel-eyed boy shuffles a few steps closer, letting the curtain fall back into place behind him, and exchanges a look with Lily that I don’t even bother trying to read.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Lily says, rising. “I’ll be back later.” And she’s gone.

I appreciate that she didn’t make up some story of having something else to do almost as much as I appreciate her promise to return. Her presence was comforting, perhaps because she’s somewhat removed from all the turmoil in my head. Perhaps because she didn’t try to tell me that everything will be all right, she just offered her silent support.

James shifts awkwardly for a few long moments, then abruptly closes the distance between us, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“So she told you.” It’s not really a question.

I don’t bother to reply.

“No one was hurt,” James says after another long moment of silence. “Not even Sniv – Snape. We talked to Dumbledore. Snape and Sirius are still with him. Snape won’t tell anyone about you. No one’s going to get expelled, or anything like that. And no one found out about our being Animagi, so there’ll be no trouble about that.”

Silence.

I feel as though I should be relieved, but I’m not. I have no room for relief. I’m confused and hurt and angry, angry and hurt and confused.

“I told Sirius about Lily’s plan,” James says finally. He never could handle silence for long. “So we don’t have to pretend to date anymore. I told him we were only doing it to make him jealous.”

Silence.

“It worked, though.” James’s cheerful tone is so obviously forced it makes my teeth hurt. “He said he’s in love with you. Apparently, seeing us together sent him ‘round the bend. It’s why he…” James trails off, eyes wide and slightly horrified at what he’s just told me. He covers his mouth with his hands, as though that could keep me from knowing what he’d been about to say.

“Told Snape,” I finish for him. My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. I suppose I should feel guilt, but I can’t. Not now. No room for relief, no room for guilt. Just confusion, hurt, and anger, anger, hurt, and confusion. The guilt will come later – tonight, tomorrow, perhaps not until next week, but it will come.

James nods slowly, lowering his hands. “Don’t blame your–”

“I’ll blame whomever I like, James,” this strange voice that comes from my mouth snaps, cutting him off.

James subsides, picking at the coverlet, just as Lily had.

I watch him for a while in silence. Eventually, I shift some against my pillows, trying to get comfortable so I can sleep again. There’s nothing else to say, and I don’t feel like talking anyway.

James notices, and stands. “I’ll stop by again tonight,” he says, turning to go.

“James?” it’s my own voice.

He turns back to me.

“Thank you,” I say.

He doesn’t ask what for. He doesn’t have to. He just nods.

I close my eyes, expecting him to leave.

Instead, I hear the tell-tale shuffle of him shifting his weight from foot to foot.

I open my eyes to look at him and wait for him to speak.

“Will you ever forgive him?” he asks finally.

I say nothing for a long moment, unsure how to respond. At last I sigh. “Will you?” I ask.

He blinks and is silent.

I close my eyes again and listen as his footsteps take him away from my bed.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 11

“Are you _sure_ you don’t need me to stay?” Lily asks for the millionth time.

  
“I’m sure, Lily.”

  
“I can owl my parents and tell them –”

  
“No, Lily. You’re not going to give up skiing with you parents for me.”

  
“It’s really okay –”

  
“ _No_ , Lily.” I sigh. “I’ll be fine.”

  
“Are you sure?” The look she gives me tells me she knows I’m lying.

  
“I want you to have fun,” I tell her. “And I can survive on my own until next term starts.”

  
Lily gives a sigh of her own. “I know you _can_ survive,” she admits. “I just hate leaving you like this. Especially over Christmas.”

  
“Lily –”

  
“And you’re not going to _be_ ‘on your own.’ I wouldn’t worry so much if you _were_. You’re going to be with Black. _Just_ Black. James and Peter are both going home.”

  
“I _know_ they’re both going home,” I snap, and instantly regret it. She’s just trying to look out for me and, quite honestly, I wouldn’t have gotten through the past couple days without her.

  
“So –”

  
“ _So_ there’s nothing you can do anyway.”

  
“You haven’t even spoken to him –”

  
“And what would you have me say?” Another sigh escapes my lips. “Look, Lily, I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t rely on you forever. And you can’t keep giving up your life for me.” I hold up a hand to stop her as she opens her mouth to protest. “I know you’ve been giving things up all week to spend time with me, and it really does mean a lot to me, you’re a great friend. But you are going to go home for the holidays. You are going to go skiing with your family, and have a wonderful time, and come back with even more crazy stories than usual. I’ll see you in the new year.”

  
I give her a tight hug and kiss both her cheeks before turning her around and pushing her towards the carriages waiting to take students back to the train.

  
She looks back at me and waves, grinning ruefully, then disappears inside one of the coaches that is already carrying one of her friends.

  
“All right?” a voice asks behind me.

  
I turn to see James and Peter swathed in cloaks and scarves.

  
I raise an eyebrow at James. “Don’t I look all right?” I inquire.

  
“No,” he says flatly.

  
I sigh again. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. “Then don’t bother asking.”

  
“Remus –”

  
“No. Don’t.” I look at the ground. “I’m sorry. I just went through this with Lily.”

  
James scuffs a booted toe against the flagstones. “How, er, how is she?”

  
I look up at him. “Worried,” I tell him frankly.

  
“We are, too, you know,” Peter says quietly.

  
“I know.” I manage a small smile for him. “Have a good holiday, you two.” Impulsively, I hug them both.

  
James kisses my cheek before pulling out of the embrace, then runs a hand awkwardly through his hair.

  
“Old habits die hard?” I ask, quirking a brow at him.

  
“Just… owl if he bothers you,” James says gruffly, ignoring my teasing. “I’ll kick his arse into next year.”

  
“That’s not very far. It’s almost next year as is,” I remind him teasingly, but I’m touched all the same.

  
“Remus.”

  
“I can take care of myself,” I tell him.

  
“I know. But –”

  
“You’ll feel better if you’re doing something. I know. I understand. And I will.”

  
“Thank you.”

  
“You’d better go, or they’ll leave without you.”

  
“Bye, Rem,” James grabs me in a hug again, then releases me and makes a beeline for the carriage Lily had joined her friend in.

  
“Have a good holiday,” Peter says and mimics James by hugging me again.

  
“You, too, Pete,” I say.

  
He follows James to Lily’s carriage.

  
I wait several more minutes while the rest of the students going home for the holidays pile into the carriages, then watch as they trundle off down the path and through the gates. I suppress yet another sigh, and turn to go back inside.

  
I stop.

  
He’s standing on the top step, watching me with tired grey eyes.

  
My breath catches and my knees feel week.

  
I grit my teeth and move forward again, pushing past him and into the entry hall without a word. Once inside, I force myself to keep walking at a steady pace towards the library. I refuse to run.

  
I go straight to my corner of the library. My corner is quiet even in the busiest of times for the library (around exams) and today there isn’t a soul in sight, either alive or dead. I know the librarian is around somewhere, but there don’t seem to be any professors or any other students – it _is_ the first day of the holidays after all.

  
The bold front I put on for my friends wants to shatter, but I can’t let it. I need it to stay in place for myself far more than I ever needed it for them.

  
I pull one of the books at random from my secret stash behind the desk and try to read, but I can’t seem to focus enough to even know what it is I’m reading. Images are crowding my head, but I don’t know which way to look. It’s all grey eyes, tan skin, and silky black hair.

  
I slam the book shut in frustration.  


_Leave me alone!_ I scream at the visions in my mind.

  
I can feel the anger boiling in my veins and I cling to it. I can’t handle the hurt that comes when fury dies, the pain of loss and betrayal. I’ve spent a week trying to forget the gaping hole in my chest, trying to cover it up in rage, telling my friends I’m all right. Lily and James see through me, even Peter can tell I’m lying. But they’re my friends, so they pretend to believe me, and they’ve done everything they can. James and Lily feel guilty, I can see it in their eyes, but they don’t speak of it, any more than I do. Peter feels left out, but is trying not to let it show; I wish I could feel sorry for him, or at least explain to him that we weren’t trying to exclude him, but I can’t even explain any of it to myself.  


I can feel the wolf inside me, even as the moon wanes. It doesn’t understand. It knows something is wrong and, on a basic level, knows that whatever’s wrong has to do with him. But the wolf knows nothing of betrayal. It knows instinct. And instinct tells it that what it wants is very close.

  
The rest of me feels like it’s dying – and anger is the only cure I’ve found. But the anger is weakening, or perhaps this ache is becoming immune to the medicine. 

  
I realize I’m staring blankly at the cover of my book. I can’t read the title. My vision is blurry. I rub my eyes and my fingers come away damp. I look at them for a long moment, not comprehending.  


_I can’t do this anymore,_ I think desperately, but I don’t even know what _this_ is.

  
The quiet of the library is pounding in my ears, giving me a headache. Or maybe it’s the headache pounding in my ears.

I rise and walk out, not bothering to put the book away. For once in my life, I don’t care about books. They’re no help to me anymore. I tried to hide in them and they failed me. I trusted them and they betrayed my trust. I know it’s not the books and it’s not even really him, it’s me. I can’t even blame the wolf for this, I never could. The wolf is what it is. But so am I.

  
I wander aimlessly around the castle, hearing my footsteps echo in the empty corridors. _All alone,_ they seem to say. _All alone._

  
My feet come to a stop in front of a familiar doorway. I stare at it for a long moment, then reach out an open it. I climb the steep spiral staircase inside, straight to the top. At the peak, I push open another door, and step out into the cold air on top of the Astronomy Tower.  


As I leave the shelter of the stairwell, the biting wind hits me full in the face and I smell him. My eyes scan the tower top almost against my will, squinting against the glare.

  
He’s sitting on the crenellated wall, wedged into one of the stone notches, feet hanging down outside.  


The door slams shut behind me, making me jump.

  
He turns at the sound.

  
I can’t move.

  
Even from this distance I can see him perfectly. His hair is loose and tangled from the wind. Salt water bleeds from his grey eyes. His cheeks and nose are red.

Something clenches within me, in my chest, in my stomach, behind my eyes. I desperately clutch my rage and hold it close as he slides out of the notch and crosses the tower-top towards me, his boots leaving prints in the light snow covering the flags.

  
He stops just out of arm’s reach.

  
I turn and grasp the doorknob. I can’t be this close to him. I want to jump him. Whether to kill him outright or just to give him a little death I don’t know. Either way, I don’t want to find out.

  
I pull, but nothing happens. The knob won’t turn. It’s locked. I reach for my wand, only to remember it’s in the dorm.

  
“Remus.” His voice is low and a little scratchy. I haven’t heard it in days and I can feel my insides melting.

  
I don’t turn.

  
“Remus.”

  
I lean my forehead against the door, trying to wish it open.

  
“Don’t ignore me!” his voice is desperate and broken. “Hate me if you want to, I deserve that, but don’t ignore me!”

  
I push away from the door and spin towards him.

  
He’s closer, barely a foot away. I can see the dark circles under his eyes, the red of his lips, and the way his black lashes curl slightly at the ends. The scent of him is overwhelming. I can feel the heat radiating from his body and _I want him_. For a moment, I forget. I forget everything he’s done, everything he hasn’t done, everything I should have done, the things I shouldn’t have done, all the reasons I should be staying away from him.  


Then the cold wind hits again. And I remember.

  
His eyes meet mine. I don’t know what he sees, but, though he doesn’t move, he pulls away. “Hit me,” he says.

  
“What?” I am so startled the word is out of my mouth before I remember that I’m not speaking to him.

  
“Hit me,” he says again.

  
“Why should I hit you?” I ask.

  
“Why shouldn’t you?” he counters.

  
I can feel the tension climbing with every passing second and I realize I _want_ to hit him. I want to hurt him like he’s hurt me, like I’ve hurt myself. I want to take out my anger and my pain on him. I want to fight with something I can see, something I can touch, something that’s not inside me. But I can’t give into this desire any more than I can give in to any of the other desires that course through my veins. “I don’t want to hit you,” I inform him.  


His eyes burn into mine. “Liar.”

  
I grit my teeth. “Why are you pushing this?”

  
“At least you’re talking to me.”

  
“Let me off of this roof.” The words come out in a low growl that surprises even me. I can’t handle this.

  
His eyes tell me he knows I’m moments from breaking. When he speaks, his voice is a husky whisper. “Just _hit me_ already! I _know_ you’ve been dying to!”  


I’m not sure when he moved closer, but his scent and the heat of his body are threatening to drown me. Without thinking, my hand lashes out and I slap him across the face.

  
The force of the blow, girlish as it may be, makes his head snap sideways. He turns slowly back towards me, icy eyes hot as they meet mine again. My handprint stands out sharply on his cheek.  


“That the best you can do?” he demands mockingly, still in a whisper.

  
The fury that I’ve been trying to build up boils on its own at his words. I lunge forward.

  
He catches me and throws me back against the door. It shudders as he pins me in place.

  
I struggle weakly against him, but the anger I felt only moments before is almost gone. He’s pressed so close I can feel his breath washing across my face every time he exhales. The heat in my blood is pure need.

  
“You’re stronger than this,” he breathes. I can smell salt water from his tears and something spicy that I can’t place.  


_What’s he trying to do?_ I wonder. _Does he realize that, with the full moon still so close, I could kill him? Does he just want proof that, despite everything, I won’t? Does he know it’s not really him I’m angry at? Is he trying to provoke me so I have something_ real _to fight? Or is he just trying to make this easier on himself through anger, like I am?_ I try to push him away without hurting him.  


His laugh is bitter. “Stop trying to hit me and hit me.”

  
I pray he isn’t quite close enough to feel the heat I can feel building inside of me. I have to get him away from me before I do something stupid. I realize I can’t hurt him. The wolf doesn’t want to. _I_ don’t want to. But there are other things I could do that might be worse.

  
I could kiss him.

  
**TBC**


	13. Chapter 12

I close my eyes tightly, trying to block out everything, trying to regain my control. But with my eyes closed, my other senses sharpen. I can feel every line of his body pressed against mine as well as I feel the rough wood of the door at my back. His bare hands on the skin of my wrists feels hot enough to burn, but I can’t care. My body craves the heat as it always does when he’s the source, despite the desperate refusal in my mind.

I try to wriggle out of his grip, but his fingers only tighten as the muffled sound of a moan comes from the back of his throat. I don’t question it as I force myself to stay still, trying to fight the reaction of my own traitorous body.

Hot air washes over my face with his every ragged exhalation. My own breath is shallow and erratic.

_Get me out of here. Get me out of here,_ part of me begs, pleading with anyone who might be listening, while the rest of me, egged on by the wolf, longs to press closer.

I force my eyes open and am swallowed by grey, drowning, drowning. _No. No. Get me out of here._

I could count every one of his sooty black eyelashes if only I could tear my gaze from his.

_Get me out. Get me out. I can’t handle this._

He’s so close I’m scared to breathe. I don’t know what to do. I just know I have to get away, quickly.

_I wish I had my wand._

I can’t think.

I hook one foot behind his ankles and jerk forward. He goes crashing backwards, but he doesn’t release me as he falls and I land on top of him.

“ _Oof_!” the breath is knocked out of both of us simultaneously as he hits the flagstones and the impact jolts through me as well.

For a moment I can’t move, then my lungs fill. “Hurt?” I gasp the question automatically, before I remember once again that I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t. I shouldn’t.

And he’s shaking his head, but I don’t know if he’s answering my spoken question or my thoughts.

He’s still holding my wrists, but our positions are now reversed. His hands are above his head and it’s my body pressed against his, my weight pinning him to the ground. Part of me thrills at the power of this position and the wolf echoes the somewhat triumphant buzz, but another part of me is horrified.

_What am I doing? I have to get away from him._

“Remus?” his voice is hoarse and I can feel my body melting into his at the sound. “Remus, please…”

And then I do it. I don’t know if it’s what he’s asking for, or even if it’s what he wants, or if it’s what I want, or why I do it. But I feel like I’m falling, and then my mouth is pressed to his.

There’s a crack as his head hits the stone, but he’s kissing me back, lips pressed roughly to mine, and it’s awkward, noses banging and teeth clicking sharply together. I grind my hips against his and he deliciously pushes back. He shifts again against me, and some part of my brain recognizes that he’s released my wrists, and now I’m the one holding his hands to the cold stone.

Then my teeth sink into his lip and his little startled gasp of pain jerks me back to the present.

_Oh, God! What am I_ doing _? What… what…?_

I let go of him and scramble to my feet, backing away from him once more, staring down at him in shock and terror and _want_.

He drags his eyes open and stares back at me, grey irises darkened with lust and some emotion I’m too scared to name. He looks like a debauched angel, lying spread on the snowy ground, cheeks flushed, lips bright red and bee stung, hair and robes spread around him.

_Dark angel,_ I think. _Angel of Sin. Wanton Lucifer._

“Remus?” he croaks, looking confused and slightly dazed.

_How did I let this happen? I was supposed to be angry. I wasn’t supposed to…_

“Remus, what are you doing?”

Survival instincts kick in and I whirl on the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges in a surge of strength.

_Run away,_ is all I can think as I half sprint, half tumble, down the stairs. _Run away. Run away. Run away…_

Back through the corridors, up to the seventh floor.

I gasp out the password to the Fat Lady. She gives me a Look, but doesn’t say anything, swinging open to admit me to Gryffindor Tower.

There’s no one in the common room, to my great relief. I don’t even know how many people have stayed for the holidays.

Up the spiral staircase to the Sixth Year boys’ dormitory. I shut and lock the door, then sag against it.

_What is wrong with me? I’m angry. I’m angry._

But it’s not him I’m angry with. It hasn’t been for a while. I should have known better. I can’t stay angry with him. I never could. Not even when he deserves it most, as he surely does now.

I bang my head back against the solid door.

_All right,_ I think. _Maybe I’m not angry with him anymore. That doesn’t mean I forgive him. And that doesn’t mean I trust him._

_But you do,_ that oh-so-practical voice that sounds horrifically like Lily states. _You don’t want to, but you do. You can’t help it. You’ve never been able to help anything you feel where he’s concerned._

_I can so,_ I retort and immediately cringe at my wonderful impression of a five-year-old.

_No,_ Lily’s voice responds, still sounding perfectly reasonable and completely calm.

Why does she sound calm? Why is she _always_ calm? Why am I the only one who is never calm?

_You_ try _to prevent whatever it is you feel, but you can’t. You fight it, you suppress it, you ignore it, but you cannot prevent it._

I bang my head against the wood at my back again. It doesn’t help, just makes my head hurt from the physical pain of the forming bruise as well as my upsetting thoughts.

I rest my aching head gingerly against the door, half regretting telling Lily to leave. She deserves a break from everything, and I’m glad she’s having fun away from here, but I miss her, and feel rather desperate for her company. James, too. I could owl him, of course, or her, but I know I won’t do it. I can’t ruin their holidays just because I can’t handle myself.

_I’ll just have to stay away from him,_ I decide. _I’ll avoid him until they get back. If I’m not around him, I won’t do anything foolish._

The memory of his lips against mine washes over me and I can’t suppress the moan that rises up from my throat. My blood boils and I can feel the phantom heat of his body ghosting over mine.

My hands start to drift of their own accord and I swiftly bang my head against the door again, hoping the pain will wipe out anything else.

It doesn’t work.

I head for the bathroom, praying a cold shower will do what the growing lump on my head will not.

This is not going to be easy.

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 13

There’s a noise, or a draft, or a vibration in the air. I don’t know what, but, suddenly, I’m half awake, and I’m not happy about it. I’d been having the most incredible dream, and I can already feel it dissolving from even my memory. My brain doesn’t seem to be functioning properly yet, but it tells me there was definitely _something_ that woke me, something _real_.

I keep my eyes closed and try to will myself back to sleep, back to the illusions my unconscious mind creates for me. I feel myself starting to drift.

Then there’s a _thud_ and a muffled curse from somewhere beyond the foot of my bed.

Any hope of a return to slumber is shattered. I’m awake and thinking.

I roll over onto my side and suddenly I can smell him. Slightly spicy with a tangy hint of sweat and… I stifle a groan. This is not helping my decision to avoid him until the others are back and can act as a buffer. It’s only been three days and I already feel like I’m losing my mind. I’ve been hiding out in the library, only coming back to the dorm to sleep, and even then I make sure I’m late enough that he’ll already be asleep.

I turn over and burry my nose in my pillow, trying to block out the scent that is slowly driving me crazy. Somehow, though, the scent only gets stronger.

I breathe in.

_It’s coming from the pillow,_ I realize. I turn my head and sniff experimentally. I’m surrounded by the scent. _How did I not notice this before?_

I shift back onto my side and crack one eye open halfway.

_Why didn’t I close my curtains last night?_ I wonder, before remembering I’d fallen asleep in the library, and by the time I’d gotten back to the room it had already been early morning and I was practically sleepwalking. I was lucky to make it to my bed, it’s no wonder I forgot to close the drapes. Naturally, my immediate reaction is to wonder what time it is. _Must be late,_ I think, still a little fuzzy. _The light’s strange._

I’m still peering around with half an eye, trying to figure out what’s wrong, because it’s not just the light, when it hits me so hard I gasp, both eyes opening wide.

I’m staring at the window. Mid-morning sunlight is shining through the glass in brilliant yellow-white beams. The frost has already mostly melted from the panes, and there’s an extra sparkle as the light bounces off the snow far below. It looks like a beautiful winter day.

This is not right at all.

My bed isn’t next to the window. His is.

_I must have collapsed on his bed this morning when I came in. But I wouldn’t have crawled into a bed that already had someone in it, would I? Even half-asleep I should have known better, when I landed on another body, if not before. And I’d probably remember landing on a body, especially his. So if he didn’t sleep_ here _last night…_

I roll onto my other side.

Sure enough, there’s my bed, looking rumpled and slept in. Now the question is, was he already there when I came up from the library? Or did he come up even later than I did, and decide to sleep there upon finding his own bed occupied? And where is he now?

The first two questions I cannot answer, and I’m not sure I want to, but the answer to the third is clear, as the sound of running water can be heard coming from the bathroom.

_He’s in the shower,_ I realize, even as the noise of the shower cuts off. Images dance in my head as my body starts to heat up and then the door opens and my brain shuts down.

He hasn’t dressed yet, just wound a towel around his waist. Droplets of water glide over his shoulders and down his chest from his still-wet hair.

He turns slightly to close the door quietly behind him, making sure it doesn’t slam. The muscles of his back ripple slightly under tan skin as he moves, and I snap my eyes shut once more as he turns back to the room.

_I’m asleep. I’m asleep. I’m asleep,_ I think frantically as his soft footsteps cross the room. I try to slow my breathing, but even with my eyes closed I can see him standing there in nothing but a towel, skin flushed and dripping wet from his shower, and my heart is racing so wildly I half-fear it’s going to jump out of my chest.

The _snick_ of a lock and the rustling sounds of cloth prompt me to peek through my lashes.

He’s shed the towel now, but is already wearing a pair of trousers. He’s in the process of threading a belt through the loops. Finished, he buckles it then pulls a shirt from his open trunk. He slides his arms into the sleeves and that delicious skin vanishes beneath the crisp fabric.

I stifle a moan at the loss.

He reaches back into the trunk without buttoning his shirt and pulls out a tie. He slings it around his neck, but a moment later it’s back in the trunk – he’s obviously just remembered he doesn’t have to wear it between terms – and the trunk is closed and locked and he’s turning towards his bed, and me, and I close my eyes again, forcing myself to relax and not squeeze them shut.

His bare feet pad closer, and then his shadow falls across me, and he’s so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body, and I can smell that familiar spicy fragrance that is so purely _him_ mixed in with the light clean scent of his soap, and it’s all a warm smell, because he’s right in front of me, and it’s not just coming from the sheets he’s slept in or the clothes he’s worn, it’s coming from _him_. My heart is beating so loudly I’m sure he can hear it and know I’m awake, but if he knows, he says nothing.

I barely manage to keep my eyes closed as his breath washes over my face and I feel a shiver run through my entire body.

And then…

His lips gently brush mine in the lightest of touches. I can hardly feel it, but it sends tingles running down my spine and before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve leaned closer and pressed my mouth more firmly against his, a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh working its way up from my throat.

The pressure vanishes in an instant as I feel him pull away with a barely audible gasp.

I open my eyes and find him staring at me, grey eyes wide in a face that doesn’t seem to know whether to be shocked or terrified. His lips are parted slightly with his silent gasp and I can almost _feel_ the fear radiating off of him.

“Remus…” his voice is no more than a hoarse whisper. “You’re… I didn’t realize you were…”

“Awake,” I breathe. My eyes are locked on his and I’m not sure I could tear them away, even had I wanted to. I lick my lips, searching for any lingering taste of him.

His grey eyes flicker briefly to my mouth then back to my eyes. Unconsciously, it seems, his own tongue darts out to touch his lips, a tiny flash of pink that disappears as if it had never existed.

I sit up slowly, eyes never leaving his. The sheets fall back as I move and the cool air in the dorm strikes my bare skin. I’m not wearing a shirt.

_Am I really awake? Am I dreaming?_ I wonder. But… _No. He’s never frightened in my dreams. And we never just stare at each other for this long, either._

I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and stand. My eyes level with his and that’s when I feel it. A spark. Electricity shooting through me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. A low growl echoes through my head.

And I realize.

_The wolf knows._

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 14

Grey eyes widen slightly.

It’s only then that I can feel the slight vibrations in my throat and chest indicating that the wolf’s growl isn’t just in my mind.

_The wolf knows,_ I think again. For a brief moment, I feel an enormous sense of relief, as though I’d been actively keeping the wolf in the dark, and now the secret was out and I was free. But, even as the weight lifts from my shoulders, I’m struck by a tidal wave of fear.

_The wolf knows._

I stare back at him, unable to move, feeling my own terror wash over me, far greater than the anxiety I can sense from him, but, at the same time, wanting to close the distance between us and hold him, kiss him, melt against him, _claim_ him.

He’s speaking, but I haven’t heard a word he’s said, and it’s as if my hearing has a bad signal, because I only catch bits of what he’s saying, the rest is lost to the faint buzzing in my ears.

“…so sorry, never meant to… don’t want to forgive me… I understand… didn’t think… didn’t mean… so sorry…”

He’s babbling, and he might be repeating himself, but it doesn’t matter because –

“…love you… so much… always… want you… need you… love… love… love you…”

– and he’s not _scared_. He’s confused and hurt and still feeling _guilty_ but he’s not frightened, not _of me_ , just that I won’t forgive him – which I did so long ago, it seems, though I tried to fight it – or that I won’t love him anymore – which was never a question, because I couldn’t even _try_ to fight that – and is he _crying_?

There are definitely tears leaking from his eyes. The salty droplets carve narrow tracks across tan skin, over fine cheekbones towards full, slightly chapped lips. His eyes are red, from lack of sleep or more tears, I don’t know.

I wonder why he’s crying now, because I’ve barely heard a word he’s said except for _love… love… love you…_

His hands are gesturing helplessly and his voice is thick from the tears though the words are still pouring out in a rush he can’t seem to control.

My heart breaks a little as I watch my angel in pain, and I don’t think – I don’t even realize I’ve moved – but then I’m swallowing his words, letting them slip from his lips to mine and slide smoothly over my tongue, one hand fisting in his open shirt, the other tangling in his hair, drawing him closer.

He makes a sound – perhaps of surprise – but then he’s melting against me, warm and close, hot hands on my back, my neck, winding in my hair, gliding down my sides, making me shiver deliciously against him.

A moan bubbles up from my throat and is lost down his, never to sound in the open air. It meets its twin on its way, and I taste it on his tongue.

My lungs burn and I have to pull away, gasping for oxygen.

He whimpers, beestung lips still parted slightly as his eyes flutter open.

So close, I can see the tiny spikes of black and flecks of blue in the depths of his grey eyes and I swallow convulsively, gulping clean air and his exhaled breath all at once, tasting his spicy scent as I inhale.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, as if he has to say the words again.

“I know you are,” I whisper, and I know, too, that I don’t need to say anything else, that I don’t need to explain why I was angry with him, or why I wasn’t, just as I don’t need him to tell me why he kissed me when he thought I was sleeping. I know and he knows, and now we’re _here_ and it doesn’t really matter any more at all, it never should have gotten so out of hand. But –

“James said you don’t love him.”

We’re still breathing together, wrapped so tightly around one another that I don’t even know which limbs are mine and which are his, and he brings up _James_?

“Not like he loves Evans.”

And _Lily_?

“Not like I love you.”

And… _Oh._

Tightening his grip on me, as though afraid I might somehow discover I shouldn’t really have four legs or arms, he ploughs on. “He said you and he pretended because you… and I…”

“Yes.” This is beyond bizarre, and I wonder again briefly if I’m dreaming, but we would never be talking so long in a dream.

“So you do…?”

“Love you?” I ask, when he doesn’t finish on his own.

He nods, and his hair brushes my forehead.

Some detached part of my mind informs me that two people should not be this close together with their eyes open, as it really can’t possibly be at all flattering, but –

“Yes. I love you.”

– and those are the magic words, because he’s positively glowing, reddened eyes, tear-stained face, chapped lips, and all, and I can’t help but close the last inch between us to taste those tempting lips once more, nibbling softly on the bottom one.

He writhes against me and somehow my back is pressed up against a bed post – his or mine, I don’t know – and his shirt is gone completely.

There are several moments of frantic hands and mouths, teeth clicking together desperately as we move. Hot skin to hot skin, sweaty and salty and sweet. He’s as hard as I am, pressed firmly against me, one of his thighs between mine. I wonder how much longer either of us can last.

The shock of his fingers fumbling with the buttons of the jeans I never took off last night snaps me out of the luscious haze I’m in long enough for the responsible part of my brain to be heard.

_What are you doing?_ it’s screaming, danger lights flashing. _This is exactly why you were supposed to stay away from him! This is exactly why you weren’t supposed to listen to any of the others. You don’t know what you’re doing or what could happen!_

The top button pops undone.

_This can’t be happening._

I force my eyes open.

“No, Sirius,” I gasp, trying, without much success, to pull away. “We have to stop.”

His eyes are half-lidded and dark with lust as he looks at me, breathing heavily. “Why?” he asks, voice husky.

His hands release the buttons, but continue to caress me, making it difficult for me to think.

“We can’t – _oh, sweet chocolate!_ – do this!” I grab his wrists, stilling his hands. “We can’t do this,” I say again.

“Why not?” He attempts to liberate himself from my restraining hold.

I’m fighting a losing battle, both against him, and against myself.

“The mating…” I manage to whisper, wishing with all of my being, harder than I ever had before, that I could be human, if only for a short while.

“I know,” he whispers back.

His answer startles me for a moment, but then I remember he’d heard the whole story.

“I can’t do that to you,” I tell him, shutting my eyes so I can’t see his face – and to make the sharp prickling sensation at the backs of my eyes go away. “I can’t trap you like that.”

I want to curl up and die somewhere – there’s no point in going on without him – but then his response makes the blood thunder in my veins.

“I want you to.” He leans forward, and his next words are hot against my ear. “Yours forever,” he breathes. “And you, mine. Only mine.”

He’s freed his hands somehow, and his arms encircle my waist. I’m grateful, as my knees have turned to jelly and I suddenly need the support.

“I don’t know what it’ll do to you,” I force out, eyes still tightly shut as I fight desperately for control.

“I don’t care.” The tickle of his lips against my skin crumbles what little remains of my defenses. “As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

He claims my mouth and this time I melt against him. Somewhere the wolf howls in triumph, but I barely hear it; all my attention is focused on _Sirius_.

And then our positions are switched, though I can’t remember moving, and he’s the one pressed against the bedpost and I can feel every line of his body against mine.

And then, somehow, we’re on the bed – _his_ bed – and I’m kneeling over him, and his pants are gone and so are mine, and I have no idea what happened to them, but _who cares?_ because this is _Sirius_ and we’re on _his bed_ and he looks like the perfect picture of Sin, laid out for _me_. I lean down to kiss his mouth, his throat, his chest, teeth scraping lightly over tan skin, tongue tasting salt and _Sirius_ and he’s squirming beneath me, repeating something just under his breath.

“What?” I ask, my own voice startlingly husky.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he whispers.

I hesitate only a split second, then lean up to kiss him firmly on the mouth. I draw back and his eyes follow me.

I hesitate again, trying to think.

“Do you have – ?” I feel suddenly very foolish.

He looks at me for a moment, then his eyes widen as he understands, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t –” I start, but stop as he takes one of my hands and slowly draws the first three fingers, one at a time, into his mouth. A low guttural sound worms its way up from my chest as I watch my fingers slide in and out of his mouth and feel his tongue wrapping around each in turn. His eyes drift closed and he hums softly, gently stroking my wrist with his own fingers, his other hand stroking my back.

“Stop,” I choke out, and his eyes open, shining up at me wickedly as I pull my hand away, dropping it lower along his body, leaving a wet trail across his hot skin.

He shivers delightedly against me for a moment, then his whole body freezes as my first finger enters him.

I freeze as well. “Sirius?”

A fierce look of concentration has appeared on his face.

“Sirius, are you – ?”

“Fine,” he says, voice low, but not seemingly in pain. “Just strange. It’s okay.”

He tenses again a moment later when I add a second finger, but tells me to keep going. The third finger takes him a moment longer, and then…

I can see the pain in his face when I finally enter him, but his nails dig sharply into my back when I try to move away.

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses, eyes closed tightly.

I fight to hold still until he’s adjusted, and the pain begins to fade, the creases above his brows smoothing out. His eyes open and meet mine.

“ _Move_ ,” he whispers.

I move. And then we’re both moving, and somehow I’m braced on one hand as my other automatically curls around him, jerking him off in time with my thrusts, and he’s clawing at my back so hard I can feel it bleeding – who knew his nails were so long? – and it hurts but it’s a good hurt and it doesn’t matter anyway because – _oooh!_ – and he comes, my name tumbling from his lips, and it’s that as much as his body tightening around me that sends me over the edge after him, a cry that might be wordless, might be _Sirius_ rising up from my throat, and we collapse together, hot and sticky and exhausted, but _oh so good_.

And, “All right?” I manage to ask, many languid moments later, mouth against his neck, the taste of salt against my lips.

“No,” comes the low, scratchy, wine-rich reply. “Better.”

I smile against his skin, and move so my weight is no longer on top of him.

His breathing slows and evens out.

I lie on my back and stare up at the afternoon sun dancing in light and shadows across the canopy, his head tucked under my chin, one of his arms tight around my waist. My fingers tangle in his hair. My eyes are closing, our combined scents warm in the air, his breath hot against my skin, our heartbeats a soothing harmony.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, inching closer. He mumbles something that sounds distinctly like, “Love you, Rem.”

I feel a smile mold my lips. “I love you, too, Sirius,” I whisper, and let myself drift off to sleep.

**END**


	16. Epilogue

I wake early on the last morning before the new term, and turn immediately to reassure myself that I am not alone in my bed, that the past several days were not just some sinfully taunting dream. I relax when I see him beside me, feel his heat, smell that unique and vaguely spicy scent.

His face is half buried in the pillow, half covered by his sleep-tangled hair. The covers have slid down almost to his waist, leaving his smooth back bare for my perusal, and I can see the still-bold bite mark at the base of his neck. I run a gentle finger over the mark, wondering if it will fade with time, or if it will stay there forever, proof of the wolf’s claim.

He hums in his sleep, moving slightly into the caress, but doesn’t wake.

The sound of the door opening startles me, and I look up to see James. I blink at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he’s doing here, then remember that his parents were going away, so he had to Floo back a day early.

His eyes quickly take in the scene, and he quirks an eyebrow in question, nodding at Sirius.

I grin in response, and he smirks.

“Thank you,” I mouth at him silently.

“Course,” he winks. He digs in his trunk for a moment and pulls out his broom, which he waves at me in explanation before heading back to the door. He tosses me a cocky salute before vanishing down the stairs, letting the door slam behind him.

The noise jerks Sirius from sleep, and he blinks around bleary-eyed for a few moments before settling his gaze on me and relaxing, teeth flashing in a smile that makes my insides melt.

“Hey, you,” his rough morning voice is almost a purr.

My own voice is husky as I laugh, and I feel no guilt whatsoever when I tackle him to the pillows for a proper good morning kiss.

**END (really, this time)**


End file.
